


Black

by GreenBottle



Series: Miracles [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, M/M, Mpreg, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 16:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10494795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenBottle/pseuds/GreenBottle
Summary: ‘I am marrying a Southerner, dad’ Killian announced at the end of a long day.‘Which one?’ asked dad.‘Doesn’t matter.’





	

_This story is more about love, and less about sex. This is the first time that I have managed to complete a piece of writing, and I am feeling considerably proud of myself. Being an archiveofourown debutante, I would greatly appreciate your feedback and any comments that you may have. As much as I like to see my story finished and published, I have enjoyed writing it even more, and I am willing to boastfully admit that I've loved every minute of it._

 

Matthew Baker’s steps reverberated off the white walls of the Academy corridors, as he rushed towards the door of his son’s teacher’s office. He took few calming breaths, before knocking firmly on the door. Oh, there we go again...  
He sighted in relief at the sight of Killian, appearing, at least this time, unharmed. His six-year-old looked as angelic as ever in his white shirt and golden tie, and with his big, black eyes full of remorse, as he was looking apologetically at his daddy. Alas, Matthew would not be fooled, and by the look of things, neither were his son’s distressed teacher and some fat, red-faced man, fuming with anger.  
‘...the cart smashed to smithereens...’ muttered the fat man, who turned out to be a vegetable stall keeper. ‘...woman scared to death, not to mention the cat...’  
‘Thank you for coming, mister Baker’ drawled the teacher through gritted teeth, interrupting the stall keeper in his monotonous rant. ‘It appears that your son Killian sneaked out of the school premises again, run to the market and stole this kind gentleman’s vegetable cart, when no one was watching. He then proceeded to try to jump into the cart to ride it all the way down to the docks, before realising that the cart was already occupied by, well, this kind gentleman’s cat, in fact. Unfortunately, by that stage the cart was already in motion, and it run into the church wall at full speed’ finished the teacher, smacking his lips shut, as if trying not to laugh.  
Matthew scrunched his own mouth tightly, turning to his son with a seemingly stern expression.  
‘I am so sorry, daddy!’ wailed Killian, starting to cry and outstretching his plump, short arms pleadingly.  
Before Matthew knew it, Killian’s arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and his legs around Matthew’s waist. His son was far too big to be carried around like that anymore, and he knew it.  
‘I just saw the cart and could not resist...’ sobbed Killian, his tears and snot staining the collar of Matthew’s new coat. ‘I never meant to hurt that kitty... Sir, is your kitty going to be fine? I sincerely apologise, sir...’ safe in his daddy’s arms, Killian was now looking at the stall keeper with his black, almond-shaped eyes, moist with tears; his lovely little face a picture of innocence.  
The stall keeper shifted uncomfortably on his thick, bowed legs, crossing his arms behind his back.  
‘Ah, never you mind that’ he said jovially, smiling warmly at the young child. ‘We was going to get a new cart anyway. Don’t fret, kiddie.’  
‘I will cover the cost’ stated Matthew firmly through the stall keeper’s protests. ‘No, I insist. And as to you...’ he tilted his head to be able to look at his son ‘no sweeties for a month.’  
‘Cake?’ asked Killian weakly.  
‘And that certainly means no cake, as well.’  
Killian groaned with misery and hid his tear-soaked face in Matthew’s new, expensive coat. He loved the cakes from daddy’s bakery even more than sweeties.  
‘If it wasn’t for that golden tie, I would take him for a boy’ said the stall keeper keenly. ‘Mischievous little fertile... cute as a button, too...’  
‘I am not cute!’ exclaimed Killian angrily, forgetting his pretence altogether.  
His father sighed heavily.  
‘Killian wants to be a husband when he grows up’ he explained apologetically, rolling his eyes.  
The stall keeper nodded understandingly. Children and their ideas...  
‘It also looks like my young son no longer wishes for a pony for his birthday, judging by his behaviour’ added Matthew, lifting his brows and looking at his son warningly.  
Killian smiled brilliantly and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek, giggling. He was not going to fall for that, though Matthew resignedly. He knew that his daddy would eventually get him anything he wanted, let alone a pony, that he had been dreaming of for months.

 

Killian loved being a fertile – during his twenty-five years of life, people did nothing but spoiled and adored him, and even the Capital whores gave him a discount, competing against each other for the opportunity to see with their own eyes the rare wonders, that fertiles had between their legs. There wasn’t a party worth mentioning in the Capital, where all fertiles would not be invited, and all doors were opened for Killian, as soon as people noticed his gold cufflinks and a discreet, single gold ring in his left ear.  
After his rather adventurous school career, Killian surprised his teachers with excellent final grades, which enabled him to promptly join the extremely selective ranks of the Home Force, where he continued with his career and education, following in his uncle’s footsteps.  
Dad’s brother was much older than dad. Killian’s grandfather had thought that uncle George was going to be the only boy in the family, and by the time dad was born, all the money had been already spent on uncle George’s education and dowries for his sisters. Benefitting from his privileged upbringing, after a successful career in the Home Force, uncle George had been able to raise enough money to buy himself a nice, fertile wife, who ten years ago gave him a son.  
While uncle George had been provided with opportunities, dad had to find his own way in the world. Like most men who weren’t born into old, wealthy families, his only choice was to marry a woman and use her dowry as a first step on the ladder. If he used the money wisely, he would eventually build his fortune and be able to pay off his daughter’s dowries, like his own father had done, and if he were lucky, his wife would give him a son or two, who would look after him in his old age.  
Killian’s dad had been only eighteen, when he married Killian’s mother – a rich, good-looking woman with long, black hair, lovely olive complexion and almond-shaped, black eyes, as dad described her to Killian. The day after his wedding, dad had put down a deposit on a small bakery, that was for sale in his home village on the outskirts on the Capital. By the time his wife was due to give birth, the previously dying business was flourishing. As if his dad had not been not already fortunate enough, a miracle then happened and his wife gave birth to her first baby – a strong, beautiful fertile. Killian’s dad could not believe his luck.  
Killian loved to listen to the story over and over again when he was little, sitting on his beloved daddy’s lap and asking to hear it one more time.  
Killian loved his dad more than anything in the world, and perhaps it was his love, that saved the spoiled little fertile from growing up into a pretentious, selfish adult, that many of his school friends turned into. Killian could not be any prouder of his dad, who, after Killian’s mother had died in her second childbirth, taking her baby daughter to the grave with her, had brought up his son all by himself, choosing not to marry again and instead providing his precious fertile child with the best upbringing the love and money could buy. He did not need to pay for his education, as all fertiles were entitled to free one at the Academy, but boxing, fencing and archery lessons, not to mention a bloody pony, did not come cheap.  
Dad’s bakery was now a large, profitable business, and he no longer made the bread himself, supervising his numerous staff and focusing on the business side instead. Killian would still find him in the kitchen on Sunday mornings though, putting finishing touches on a beautiful cake, the smell of fresh bread coming from the oven, scones already cooling on the windowsill, and he knew that dad missed the days when he’d been just a baker.  
When Killian became older and started to appreciate everything that his dad had done for him, he made himself a promise – one day he was going to be rich enough to buy daddy a fertile, and then watch him reach his old age in happiness, surrounded by Killian’s half-brothers and a loving wife at his side.  
There was a very simple way to achieve his goal, and a very quick one, too – all Killian had to do was to accept one of the many marriage proposals, that had been made to him through the years. The problem was that as much as he loved his dad, that was the one sacrifice that Killian was not prepared to make – it weren’t like he didn't like the strong, handsome men, who courted him, especially if they were blond, but Killian simply never pictured himself as a wife.  
Killian was strong and handsome himself, with his mother’s olive skin and dark colouring. He was also taller than most fertiles, and most men who wanted to marry him. When he applied to join the Home Force, he passed all of his physicals with minimal effort, despite being on his period that day. No, Killian was not a wife material and that was fine, because he had a better plan on how to make his fortune.  
Why marry a man, if he could get himself a nice, rich blond girl instead, and bang her for years, without worrying that he would get her pregnant? And even when he did, eventually, all that was going to pop from between her legs were a son or two, who did not need to be provided with dowries. And in the meantime, thanks to his uncle George’s support, his career in the Home Force was going from strength to strength.  
It was when he was patrolling the Capital streets, sitting on horse’s back in his shiny new uniform, that Killian’s plan bitten him in the arse.  
The most beautiful creature in the world was approaching from the other side of the road, requiring Killian’s assistance, as if he were a knight in a shiny armour. And that he had been ever since, according to his fiancé Amos, who fell in love with Killian the moment he laid his eyes on him, just as Killian did with Amos.  
His dad watched him as he came back home that day, dizzy and with a stupid smile glued to his face, and shuddered with silent laughter.  
‘I always knew that you were going to fall for some fertile one day, and I have been saving money ever since you were six. If on top of that we remortgage the bakery, we may just be able to afford it. Speak to Amos’s father’ the most wonderful dad in the world said to him that day, as Killian hugged him, thanked him and promised that he was still going to find way to buy daddy a little redhead wife, that dad always dreamt of.  
Amos’s family was rather flattered that their precious son attracted attention of perhaps not the wealthiest, but well connected and handsome fertile with great career prospects. They all looked forward to having fertile grandchildren, too, that fertile couples were known to produce. The deal was signed and in a year’s time, Killian was to marry the love of his life.  
Three months later, they were still as much in love as on the day when they first met, and every time Killian looked into his blond fiancé’s blue eyes, he could not believe that such beauty existed.

 

The day that put an end to his happy life started just like any other.  
Killian’s dad was buried in the paperwork, when Killian came downstairs for breakfast. Killian knew that his father was going through the remortgage agreement again, that was supposed to be signed in a few weeks time.  
‘What’s happened to you?’ his father exclaimed, seeing a large bruise on the side of Killian’s face.  
Killian knew that his dad did not like to see him hurt, but that was the nature of the job, as his father was well aware of. There had been a brawl in the docks last night, and who was supposed to separate the drunken mob, if not the Home Force?  
Dad always worried that Killian was going to be harmed when on duty, but as he told his father many times, with his training and physical strength, he was probably no more likely to get hurt in work, than he was to slip on the stairs at home and break his back.  
‘Don’t forget your gloves’ his dad said, just when Killian was about to leave.  
He had left them upstairs last night, and he rushed to his bedroom with his shoelaces still untied. It was when he was running back down the stairs, that he slipped and fell, breaking his back.

 

Half a year later, all of dad’s savings were gone.  
None of the expensive Capital doctors were able to fix Killian’s legs, and none of the pricey medicines made the slightest difference – despite their attempts, Killian was exactly where he had been a week after the accident – he was able to twitch the big toe of his right foot a little, and that was it. His back was supposed to have healed by now, but it did not feel like it had – it still hurt terribly, keeping Killian up at night.  
His poor daddy, much smaller in size than Killian, now had to carry him to the toilet like a child, help him bathe and dress, and get up at night to turn him in bed. Killian’s heart was broken, and so was his dad’s. He could not stand seeing his beloved son’s suffering, and Killian often heard him cry at night.  
Killian had been so certain that Amos would never abandon him, and it hurt like nothing else in his life ever had, when he had been proved wrong. Amos had visited once and he never came back. Amos’s father had paid back Killian’s advance on the marriage contract two weeks after that.  
His mates from the Home Guard kept visiting, even though Killian acted like an absolute jerk, whenever they came. Friends and family were always at their door, but Killian hardly ever wanted to see any of them.  
It was the news of Amos’s engagement to some rich banker, that made Killian make up his mind.  
He hardly ever left the house anymore, except when dad put him in a flour cart, lined up with cushions, and transported him to another pricey medical appointment. His dad looked ten years older than he had on the day of Killian’s engagement, and he was neglecting his business, already making losses. At least they had never gone ahead with the remortgaging, which was a small comfort.  
‘Advertise, dad’ begged Killian again from the sofa, where he now spent his days. ‘Use the money to pay off the debts. I really want you to advertise.’  
Dad wouldn’t hear of it, and it would take many arguments, before Killian got his way.  
‘I’d rather be dead than live like that, dad! Watching you ruin your life at my expense, looking into the eyes of all those people who come to visit only to pity me. I can’t stay here, not after Amos...’ Killian broke into tears.  
In the end, dad had never been able to refuse Killian anything.

 

‘I am probably still able to have a kid, you know’ Killian was telling his dad, as they were waiting in the living room, both dressed smartly and very nervous. ‘Would be good to have a kid; takes your mind off things.’  
Dad nodded and grunted in agreement, but his eyes weren’t on Killian, but looking outside onto the road. The matchmaker was supposed to be knocking on their door any minute now.  
He came with five offers and appointments arranged for the same day.  
‘First one is a double one, they are brothers...’ the grey-haired man was muttering, going through his papers. ‘We may be a little late with this one, as the office is still looking for an interpreter. They are Southerners, you see.’  
Dad raised his eyebrows sceptically, but Killian was excited. South was far, far away from the Capital, and from Amos.

 

The brothers turned out to be twins. They were as strong and tall as Killian used to be, when he could still stand; if not taller. They were identical, except for a long scar going down the cheek of the one standing at Killian’s left, and large, complicated-looking tattoos on their necks and arms. They had dark, greying long hair and matching beards, yellowish-green eyes and bushy eyebrows. They were around Killian’s dad’s age, and they looked positively barbaric. Killian felt like laughing.  
‘Does he wear diapers?’ the one with a scar asked through the interpreter, and Killian’s dad looked at the Southerner like he was about to punch him on the face.  
The men that came after were even worse – one was older than Killian’s uncle and kept talking to Killian as if he were touched on the head, the next one was half Killian’s size, and looking rather fragile.  
‘How is he going to carry me to the toilet?’ Killian asked his dad rhetorically, after the man left.  
The last one smelled so bad, that they needed to leave their windows open for an hour, and he was also not happy with the asking price, demanding a discount.  
‘I am marrying a Southerner, dad’ Killian announced at the end of a long day.  
‘Which one?’ asked dad.  
‘Doesn’t matter.’

 

‘Perhaps we should continue looking’ his dad was pleading, but Killian was already mentally packing his bags.  
It was the morning when the Southerner was supposed to come and sign the contract. Killian knew how much his dad hated the idea of his son going so far away from him, but Killian also knew that this was the only way, that his father was ever going to be able to focus on his own life for once, with Killian no longer in the picture. Killian had cost him enough already; it was only fair that he freed his father from his burden once and for all.  
The Southerner brought his brother along with him, and Killian wondered whether they ever separated. Twin babies were considered extremely lucky, as long as they were boys or fertiles, and Killian suspected that the brothers liked to use that to their advantage.  
‘How much?’ asked the one with a scar on his face, who seemed to be the dominant one and the one who wanted Killian for his wife.  
‘How much are you willing to pay?’ asked Killian, before his dad had a chance to give the pre-established price. Strange that the Southerner would not have known it already, though Killian.  
The Southerner named a price which was much higher, than the one that they were hoping to get – somewhere within the range of what fully able, young fertiles usually went for. Killian was impressed, but then everyone knew that Southerners had more money, than they knew what to do with.  
He looked at his dad anxiously, knowing that his old man kept having second thoughts about the whole affair. It was all up to daddy now.  
His father nodded in approval.  
‘We will each pay this much’ the other Southerner said through the interpreter, and Killian’s father raised his arms in protest.  
‘Now, wait a minute...’  
That was something that none of them had been prepared for. Killian knew that the practice of joint marriages was still present, even in the Capital, but it was becoming uncommon nowadays. In the past, the less affluent families, that had no sons in the youngest generation, would sometimes join their funds and purchase a fertile wife for two or three men at once, desperate for a male heir that would save the family from surrendering their fortune to the Home Bank after the death of the last male. With adoptions becoming more popular, the families in similar circumstances were now more likely to establish a joint parenthood with distant relatives, who were lucky enough to have sons of their own, and joint marriages were less heard of.  
‘Dad, dad!’ Killian was trying to attract his father’s attention, who seemed like he was about to throw the matchmaker, the twins and their interpreter out of their house. ‘Dad, it may not be such a bad thing! Look how strong they are; they will be able to take me anywhere I want!’  
His father sat back in his chair, looking at Killian as if he were seeing him for the first time in his life.  
‘And twice the money’ added Killian encouragingly.  
‘I don’t care about the money, son. I do not care about the bloody money!!!’

 

With his dad being in such a state, the negotiations had to be postponed by a few days, and it had taken many hours of arguing and pleading, before Killian convinced his dad to let him marry the twin brothers from the South, who were far too old, could not even speak Main and God only knows what they were going to do to Killian.  
By the time they sent for them again, Killian worried that they might have changed their minds or found someone else, but they did turn up and signed the contract in the end. His dad was now a rich man.  
They were married a week later, in a small ceremony that took place in dad’s drawing room, with only uncle George’s family and Killian’s grandfather for guests.  
To Killian’s surprise, when the priest was almost done, the Southern men put several gold bangles on each of his wrists – the one with a scar on his face on his left hand, the one without on his right.  
‘It is our custom’ they said through the interpreter’s lips.  
Killian now knew that the Southerner with a scar on his cheek, that he had just married, was called Rhyl, and the other one’s name was Radyr.

 

‘Promise me that you are going to marry now’ Killian was pleading with his father, when his wheelchair and bags were already loaded onto the cart waiting outside their front door. ‘A fertile, but not one that is too young for you, old man.’  
Dad wasn’t even trying to hide his tears, when saying goodbyes to his beloved son.  
The Southerners arrived. One of them was going to drive a cart with Killian in it, and the other the one with Killian’s worldly possessions. After taking one look at Killian’s mode of transport, they both scrunched their lips critically.  
‘No, no’ they kept repeating, starting to search around Killian’s house and back yard.  
Finally, they found a wide wooden shelf on which bread used to be stored, before the bakery had been expanded, and with Killian’s permission and in front of his stunned dad, they placed it on top of the cushions, that were lining Killian’s cart. They covered the shelf with a blanket, but it was still rather hard when they lay Killian on it, then proceeding to strap him to it by his legs, waist and chest with wide leather belts.  
‘It actually is much better!’ called Killian to his dad, who was standing in the doorway and observing the whole action with a frown on his face. ‘My back doesn’t hurt as badly!’  
Dad rushed to cover him with a thick duvet, throwing in few thick jumpers and a hot water bottle. It was the middle of Autumn, and days were getting colder.  
Killian could still picture his face, covered in tears, even after he was too far away to see dad’s bakery anymore.

 

The journey to the South, that Killian knew would normally take around ten days, took over two weeks due to Killian’s condition.  
The first word that the Southerners learned from him in Main was “hurt”, and they would stop Killian’s cart and untie him from his bread shelf, bending his legs and stretching his sore back, whenever Killian called. First time they did it, Killian panicked, as all the doctors that him and his dad had seen, had been adamant that he was to avoid moving at all cost to allow his back to heal. Strangely enough, as painful as the bending and stretching was, it actually made Killian’s back feel better on the longer run. Plus, he though cynically, how much more paralysed could he become? Maybe if he were lucky, the Southerners would manage to also break his neck one day, freeing him from the pain forever.  
The Southerners turned out to make good nurses, and actually seemed to have some idea about caring for someone in Killian’s state. He did not have to feel embarrassed when he needed the toilet anymore, as the Southerners came up with a brilliant solution of handing him a large empty glass jar, whenever he needed to go; something that him and his dad somehow never managed to come up with.  
Whenever possible, the Southerners would put him at the inns for the night, quite happy to sleep on the floor next to his bed themselves. None of them made any attempts to consummate their marriage, and Killian was too proud to initiate anything himself. Maybe he had been handsome once, but those days were over. His face was now thin and pale, and his large black eyes, that used to be his best feature, were now sunken and surrounded by dark circles. After lying in bed for eight months, his body was no longer strong and muscled, and his legs were the worst of it all – unnaturally thin and with large, agonisingly painful ulcers in the areas where his skin was pressing for too long against whatever surface he was lying on. He would not touch himself with a ten foot pole, and could not figure out why the Southerners wanted to purchase him for a future mother of their son, since they could clearly afford someone normal.  
Soon enough, they were too far into the South to find inns anymore, and for the first time in his life Killian spent the night outdoors. In the past, when he had been still himself, he would have probably enjoyed it, but now he could not wait for the journey to end. He was dirtier and stinker than he could ever remembered being, even during his Home Force training. His bedsores seemed to hurt more every day, and some puss seemed to be seeping through the bandages, but Killian would rather die than let the pair of the bloody Southerners see his legs in such a state. Every time they tried to uncover his wounds, he would fight them with whatever strength he had left. It was bad enough that they needed to help him pull his trousers down, when he wanted to take a shit.  
Eventually, after sixteen long days of bouncing on the uneven, potholed road and hissing in pain every time his legs jumped up and down limply on the bloody bread shelf, Killian and the Southerners arrived at their destination, but by then Killian was already burning in fever, and barely conscious.

 

Killian later found out that he had been asleep for three days. When he eventually woke up, he was clean, shaven and dressed in a fresh nightshirt, and his wounds had been tended to. The Southerners kept him in bed for two more weeks, feeding him chicken soup and some fruity-tasting, mysterious potions. They were undressing and washing him, replacing his bandages and treating his ulcers with a mint-smelling ointment that burned a lot, bending his legs and back and even changing his pads, when Killian’s period started. By the time they declared him well enough to get out of bed, Killian had been stripped entirely of the last shreds of his dignity, and to be quite frank, he no longer even cared.  
The Southerners brought his wheelchair, that dad had bought for him and which Killian had never been able to use, as his back had hurt too much. To his surprise, Killian was now somehow able to sit in it long enough, to allow them to wheel him around his new house, while the Southerners were trying to describe what they could in their limited Main vocabulary.  
The farmhouse wasn’t very large and rather simple. Killian’s bedroom was set up for him in one of the rooms on the ground floor, next to the kitchen with a dining table and a sitting room with a large fireplace. There were two more rooms on that level – a good-sized pantry and, to Killian’s utter surprise, an office with shelves full of books with foreign lettering on their backs. The barbarians could read, then.  
They took him outside and around the back, where some sort of a large workshop was placed, along with a chicken coop and stables. There was a large vegetable garden and an orchard, too, and there were still apples hanging from the trees and things growing in the ground, despite the time of the year.  
It wouldn’t be half bad, though Killian, if only they weren’t in the middle of nowhere. They were surrounded by wilderness, and the farmhouse was squeezed in between the high mountain wall on one side, and the forest on the other, but the air smelled much nicer, than it did back at Killian’s village.  
The farmhouse seemed to be far better maintained than Killian’s family home was, as neither him nor dad cared that much about how tidy things were, and were happy to keep a woman to do their laundry and cleaning, rather than pay for a proper servant. The Southerners also turned out to be better cooks than him and dad, although their bread was shit.  
As weak as Killian still was, he had to admit that his back seemed to be less sore, and his ulcers were no longer causing him pain.  
After they ate and rested by the fire, the Southerners started to make attempts to fit Killian back into his wheelchair  
‘Bath’ one of them explained.  
‘But it’s only midday’ Killian protested, not willing to go back to bed yet.  
They wheeled him outside and down to the side of the house, where a wooden extension, that Killian had initially presumed to be a large shed, was placed.  
‘It’s bloody freezing today’ he continued to complain, not fancying the whole idea at all.  
To his amazement, the inside of the shed was hot and steamy. It turned out that the barbarians had their own hot spring somewhere nearby, and they had built a small, primitive pool on the floor of the shed, where the water from the cistern mixed with the scalding hot, sulphur-smelling one through a complicated-looking network of conduits and pumps. Amos would have killed for such luxury, thought Killian, remembering how much his fiancé loved the Capital thermal baths. It was a chilly day and Killian could already smell the winter in the air, but the water was so warm that he no longer felt the cold, once the Southerners undressed him and lowered him into the pool.  
There was enough room for the Southerners to sit at the bottom of the pool on each side of Killian, making sure that he was well supported. Only after they joined him did Killian realise that they were now all naked and sitting so close, that they were touching each other. The Southerners bared their sharp teeth in smiles, when Killian looked from one of them to the other. They brought soap with them and were now washing him, even his arms and torso, that he could have easily reached himself. They removed the bandages around his legs, and when Killian touched his wounds under the water, he discovered that they were no longer open, but healing and covered with large scabs.  
The Southerners were now massaging his legs, running their hands on the insides of his thighs, and Killian realised that they were about to fuck him today. He put his arms around their necks for support and leaned back comfortably, closing his eyes and letting them do as they pleased. The one on the left was the first one to kiss him, and his brother followed shortly.  
They dressed him and themselves in bathrobes, took him back to the house and carried him upstairs, where Killian had not been before. They took him into one of the bedrooms, placing him in the middle of a large, four-poster bed. There was a fireplace in the corner, and the fire was already going, making the room warm and cosy. They undressed Killian and stared at his wasted body in broad daylight, as if they had not seen it already many times before.  
The one on the right, with the scar on his cheek, meet Killian’s gaze and there was a fire burning in the yellowish-green eyes.  
He was looking at Killian as if he were the sexiest, most gorgeous thing that his barbarian eyes had ever seen.  
Killian gasped, amazed to see how much he was being desired. Despite his lameness, he was still attractive enough in the Southerner’s eyes to make his thick cock raise from his hairy groin. Killian stared in fascination at the large, heavy-looking, reddish-brown ball sack, something that no fertile had, and unable to help himself, he outstretched his hand to touch it. He looked at the Southerner with his hand around his balls, and they both started to laugh.  
The other Southerner was now taking off his robe and positioning himself behind Killian, and it was becoming clear that the brothers were intending to share him in bed, rather than to take turns. Killian mentally shrug his shoulders – he was generally feeling fine with the idea, as long as they were not planning on both using his cunt at the same time. It would take more than a threesome to shock Killian, who had had his fair share of the libertarian enjoyments, that the Capital brothels had to offer.  
He never, however, had slept with anyone with a dick before. Amos had a rather traditional approach to the premarital activities, and putting his hand down his fiancé’s trousers had been the closest that Killian had ever gotten to the experience.  
The Southerner who was behind Killian’s back, was now pulling him up to a half-sitting position, leaning against the headboard himself, and supporting Killian’s upper body against his chest. He put Killian’s limp legs over his own thighs, spreading them up widely and exposing Killian’s groin to his brother’s hungry eyes. The one with a scar slipped his index finger inside Killian’s cunt promptly, quickly becoming aware of his predicament.  
‘No hurt’ the Southerner promised, his eyes glistening under a mass of dark hair.  
Killian swallowed hard. He was not afraid, he told himself. He was not.  
The one with a scar, who was going to have him first, leaned in and kissed him, properly this time and with his tongue, scratching Killian’s face with his beard. In the meantime, his brother was twisting Killian’s nipples between his fingers, doing a rather good job. When he also started kissing him on the neck, Killian was already getting in a mood a bit, and he moaned approvingly.  
After eight dry months, preceded by another three of being faithful to Amos, could anyone blame him for responding to the barbarians’ advances? Killian didn’t think so.  
The one with a scar kept fingering him, until Killian was nice and wet. It felt fine so far, but would be even better, if the Southerner paid some attention to his dick, as well. Killian had never minded having his cunt stimulated by the skilled tongues and fingers of the Capital whores, but he had always had a strong preference for the old-fashioned banging, with his dick in something tight and warm.  
With his paralysed legs spread wide, his head turned to the side and the other brother’s mouth now covering his own, Killian’s hands wandered into the Southerner’s long, thick hair to get himself some control over the kiss. The one with a scar was positioning himself between Killian’s legs, and he pressed the tip of his cock to Killian’s cunt. Killian broke the kiss immediately, and looked into the eyes of the first man ever, who was going to penetrate him.  
It really did not hurt that much. He wasn’t even bleeding.  
After few initial shallow thrusts, the Southerner seemed to now be quite deep inside, at least that’s what it felt like. Few more thrusts, stronger this time, and Killian stood corrected – now that was it.  
The way that they were positioned, the Southerner’s dick was rubbing nicely against Killian’s gland, and thanks to his girth, he was giving Killian that peculiar feeling of being slightly painfully stretched, that Killian’s whores had talked about. Between the dick fucking his cunt, two pairs of hands and lips, that seemed to be everywhere on him, and some nice tattooed muscles and thick body hair for him to bite, grope and hold on to, soon enough Killian was beginning to enjoy it.  
‘Let me touch it!’ Killian was arguing with his lovers, who did not only neglect his engorged, needy dick completely, but would also hold his arms to prevent him from touching himself. They laughed when Killian groaned with frustration, and pulled him up and spread his legs wider, stopping him from sliding down on the bed sheet.  
The one who was fucking him seemed to be getting close, but rather than come inside Killian, he finished in his own hand, spilling himself all over Killian’s stomach. Killian hardly even noticed, because at that stage the one behind him decided to take mercy on him, and finally wrapped his hand around Killian’s cock, while the one who had just finished fucking him, showed the three of his fingers into Killian’s now well-stretched cunt. He started pressing on Killian’s gland firmly, while his brother continued to play with Killian’s body with his hands and lips. Before long, Killian’s own sperm was mixing with the Southern one on his stomach. Killian’s orgasm was a good, intense one, and he leaned against the other brother’s body with a satisfied smile on his face, his cunt rather sore and his throat a bit dry from gasping loudly, but overall feeling content and well-fucked.  
The brothers were not planning on letting him rest. The next thing Killian knew, they were switching positions, and the other Southerner, who had been poking him on the back with his own erection for the whole time, was now demanding his turn.  
‘Fuck off’ groaned Killian, still recovering and not ready for another round.  
He tried to put his legs together, before remembering that he could no longer move them. He then tried to roll off onto the bed, but they were holding him too strongly. He attempted to push away the one looming over him with his erected dick, but they only restrained his arms again. The Southerners, who had been rather quiet so far, were now chuckling in deep, throaty voices, while watching him struggle. The one who had already had him, was holding Killian by the wrists with both of his hands, lifting Killian’s arms high up and spreading Killian’s tights wide with his own knees. His brother grabbed Killian by the chin at the same time, and forced his tongue inside his mouth. Even if Killian weren’t paralysed, the Southerners were still stronger than him, and there were two of them – they could do whatever they wanted to his broken body. Killian wriggled in their tight grip, no longer liking what was happening, and beginning to feel uncomfortable.  
‘Stop, I don’t want to...’ he kept saying, but no one listened.  
Killian’s cunt was still too tight and painful after his orgasm, and the other brother had to temporarily resort to fucking him with his fingers instead. Killian could only swear and curse in discomfort, restrained and spread out open, getting angrier and more frightened by the minute. No matter how much he tried to fight, calling the Southerners names, spitting and biting, the Southerner who wanted to have him easily managed to overcome his defences, and eventually entered him in one powerful thrust, and it became clear that he had no intention of being as gentle as his brother had been.  
Sandwiched between their bodies, helpless and raped like a woman, Killian was now hating both bastards fiercely, but he hated himself even more. So this was what he had become, and his only comfort was that at least none of his friends were ever going to find out about it, especially not Amos. Killian was on the verge of tears, but determined not to humiliate himself even further. The Southerners began to notice his unease and Killian was expecting them to only laugh more, but instead, the eyes of the one that Killian could see softened.  
‘No hurt’ he said slowly, no longer moving inside him and trying to kiss him instead.  
Killian turned his head, avoiding his lips. The one with a scar released Killian’s wrists, and they were now back to caressing and kissing him, as if determined to prove that his pleasure mattered to them. They even touched his dick again, but Killian only hissed in discomfort, as he was still too sensitive there. The Southerners were now talking to him in their deep voices, saying the words in a language that he could not understand. The one inside him started to move again, slowly picking up the pace. He rubbed against Killian’s gland, sending sparks all over his body and making Killian moan, even though he did not want to. The brothers’ reaction was more than enthusiastic, and they promptly resumed with the fast, intense action, and before Killian had time to gather his thoughts, his body was betraying him and the brothers no longer had to restrain him anymore – he somehow found himself holding his arms around the Southerner’s necks and reaching for a kiss, moaning and losing control, as a second orgasm, barely minutes after his first, took over him, and Killian had no idea how it even happened. He could only scream and wail, while the one who was inside him kept fucking him all the way through it with so much force, that all three of them were now jumping up and down on the bed. It no longer felt like a normal orgasm – Killian’s cock was half-limp and uninvolved, while his female bits contracted so strongly, that they were meant to leave bruises on the dick in his cunt, now struggling to ride in and out of him and held inside by his clamped muscles. The smallest touch of their hands on Killian’s skin, and the slightest move inside him would drive him into insanity, and when one of the brothers bit him on the neck and Killian’s nipples were twisted painfully again, Killian was taken over the edge one more time, now too shattered to even scream anymore, moaning helplessly and hiding his face in someone’s neck, someone’s arms holding him so strongly, as Killian’s stomach and buttocks contracted in another series of now painful cramps, and the feeling coming from his groin radiated over his whole being, filling him with unbearable, uncontainable pleasure, making him so weirdly emotional that it felt like he was coming out of his body, while finding himself on the verge of tears again.  
The brothers were now arranging his exhausted, overly stimulated body on the bed comfortably, and every time they moved his hips or legs, his stupid cunt would protest with another spasm, making Killian moan, wail and roll on the bed helplessly, his mouth opened in another silent scream and his eyes watering. It had to stop, it was so intense that it was scary, why wasn’t it stopping...  
The Southerners were now lying on both sides of him, petting and kissing him gently, taking care of him.  
‘Wife’ they kept saying one through another in thick, deep voices. ‘Wife’ they were repeating, as they put their arms around him, forming a warm, safe nest around Killian.  
Killian did not like to be touched after sex and he detested cuddling. He simply hated it; everyone knew it.  
He buried his face deeply into a nearby neck, making small, pitiful noises. They had destroyed him and now all he wanted was to feel that someone was there for him, when he felt so naked and vulnerable, unable to guard or contain his emotions at all. The Southerners were stroking his hair and back, keeping him warm with their bodies, and acting like they were very happy to have Killian in their lives. He almost felt loved.  
For the first time in months, Killian wasn’t feeling like he wanted to die anymore.

 

From there on, they fucked him every night and Killian was getting more hooked up on it, than a sailor did on the drink. When the Southerners were using his body, taking him further than any Capital whore had ever dreamt of, Killian no longer remembered that he was crippled, that he had no future, that his fiancé had abandoned him without as much as a word, and that he was now trapped in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, with two weirdoes who would not listen to what he was saying.  
His husbands were becoming rather obsessed with him and adored him openly, and Killian’s life at the farmhouse was turning out to be surprisingly enjoyable, or at least his nights were, because his days were nothing but one long, painful misery.  
After his husbands had fucked him for the first time, they had all stayed in bed until dinner. After Killian recovered enough to be able to speak again, he put both of his hands on his stomach, looking at the Southerners.  
‘No?’ he asked, knowing that they would understand.  
Despite just having his brains fucked out, Killian didn’t fail to notice that both of the men took extra care not to come inside him.  
‘No’ they replied, pointing at Killian’s paralysed legs.  
Still very sensitive and emotional, he was deeply hurt by their reply. So he wasn’t even good enough for that anymore? What was the point of marrying him, then?  
His husbands noticed his distress and rushed to comfort and reassure him. They each grabbed one of his limp legs and started moving them, as if he were walking in the air, lifting their brows suggestively to add to their explanation.  
‘But I will never walk again, can’t you see that?’ exclaimed Killian, wondering whether someone, perhaps the matchmaker, had led the men to believe that Killian was going to get better.  
He knew that his husbands were able to understand what he was trying to say, but they kept looking at him with that definite expression on their hairy faces.  
The following morning, the torture began.  
When they took him to the pool again, Killian just presumed that it was so that they could fuck him later, but instead he was lowered into the water by himself, while his husbands bended, stretched and twisted his legs, despite Killian’s furious yelps of pain.  
‘Walk’ his husbands would repeat, and the hands that had given him so much pleasure, were now tormenting him mercilessly.  
The same pattern repeated ever since – his husbands would come up with new tortures each day, only to make it up to Killian later at night.  
While one of them would do the cleaning and cooking, looking after the livestock and disappearing for hours inside the workshop in the garden, or answering the door to the numerous people, that Killian never had a chance to take a look at, the other one would place Killian on the kitchen table with his legs bared, rubbing in some stinky, sticky ointments, working his hips, knees and ankles and prodding him with sharp objects on the soles of his dead feet, grunting in satisfaction whenever Killian screamed in pain. The following day they would swap, and now the other one would attempt everything that he could think of to make Killian’s legs move, having him roll on the floor and crawl up and down the stairs on his arms, while making him drink more of those fruity potions, that Killian was now sick of.  
His husbands got that ridiculous idea in their heads that they were going to make him walk again, and no matter how Killian shouted and swore at them, they would not give up. One day, they even started suspending him in some sort of a swing, with straps going around his waist and between his legs, and leaving him there for a long time, trying to balance himself with his arms, while his feet were sweeping limply on the floor.  
Killian at some point stopped screaming and cursing, and was now trying a different strategy – every time one of his husbands came to check on him, he would look at them pleadingly with his big doe eyes, showing them how much he suffered. It always worked on his dad, but the two bastards were left unmoved.  
His husbands seemed to like the idea of suspending him so much, that they took it to the bedroom as well. They found a solution to his paralysed legs, getting in the way, by putting leather straps under Killian’s knees and tying them to the headboard, hanging his limp legs in the air, with his tights spread widely. Killian no longer even pretended that he did not like it when one of his husbands went on top of him, while the other was sitting back, watching, only to swap with his brother later on. Killian loved to look into the eyes of the one observing, holding his hand, as the one fucking him was making him come so intensely, that all of Killian’s body trembled, and even his legs felt as if they were jerking involuntarily. If he didn’t know any better, he would swear that the toes on his right foot curled up sometimes. More than once, the twins would pin Killian’s hands down over his head playfully, so that he was fully spread out and restrained when they were fucking him for the second or third time that night, while all that Killian could do was to moan and scream and beg them to stop. Killian always found it strangely arousing.  
Maybe he had been experienced before marrying the twin Southerners, Killian thought, but he knew nothing about the almost oppressive intimacy of the married life. Since their first time, Killian didn't spend a single night in the room downstairs, sleeping with both of his husbands in the large four-posted bed instead. At first, he did not like all, and he missed being able to get a good night sleep in a bed by himself, without two snoring, farting Southerners sleeping on each side of him, but now there were also nights when he loved nothing better than to fall asleep, when being kept warm by his husband’s bodies, with their hands still wandering lazily around his groin and arse, and being pressed so tightly to their hairy chests, that he could hear their double heartbeat.  
Killian started taking more interest in getting to know the two Southerners, and improving their communication by teaching them more Main, while trying to pick up some Harza himself. The two brothers, which Killian had initially simply perceived as vehicles to deliver his plan of leaving the Capital, were now becoming persons in his eyes. The twins seemed to resemble each other as closely in personalities as they did in looks, and sometimes Killian thought with humour that he was basically married to one husband in two bodies, but once he got to know them a bit more, he started noticing some significant differences.  
Rhyl tended to be the one in charge, answering the door when people were coming to buy brothers’ potions and powders, for which they were paying rather a lot of money, to Killian’s puzzlement. Rhyl loved to spend his evenings poring over books, and he was the one who explained to Killian that the brothers were in fact very skilled healers, when during one of the shouting and swearing sessions, that Killian performed whenever the Southerners tormented his legs, he called the twins demented pricks, who had no idea what they were doing. Rhyl liked to teach Killian Harza and talk to him over a glass of something stronger, and somehow he was always the one that Killian would cling on to first, after the brothers finished fucking him.  
Radyr was more wild and impulsive than his brother, and he was the one who could make Killian laugh, even when he was writhing in pain on the kitchen table. Radyr tended to be the more adventurous one in bed, and more likely to show his emotions. While both brothers seemed to enjoy cleaning and cooking a lot, which was strange in itself, Radyr was the one who would press Killian’s clothes every day for him (Killian and his dad never bothered with pressing their clothes, unless they were going out), arrange Killian’s dinner beautifully on his plate (in Killian’s family home, food would be eaten in any, overcooked and burned, shape and form, and as long as it was still edible, no one complained) and make sure that they were all using proper glasses when drinking the brother’s own production, strong cornflower liquor, that Killian had never heard of before moving to the South (him and dad just preferred to drink their beers straight from the bottle).  
Still, the brothers were a single unit in Killian’s eyes, and it did not matter which one was turning him in bed at night to prevent him from getting bedsores, which one was cutting his toenails and helping him wipe his arse, which one was fucking him or holding his arms above his head, as long as they were both there. When Rhyl was called away to a labour in some village one night, and Radyr started making advances on Killian, he pushed him away angrily.  
‘Rhyl!’ Killian shouted, attempting to turn with his back to his other husband.  
Radyr laughed and left him alone, but when Rhyl came back the following morning, Radyr told his twin about what had happened in his absence.  
Rhyl was over the moon, kissing and groping Killian, while muttering obscenities into his ear. Killian chuckled – he did not need to speak Harza to know what his husband was saying.  
None of the twins would try to fuck Killian by themselves ever again.

 

One day Killian was feeling so frustrated with the two bastards, that he started throwing whatever objects he could find at them, screaming invectives at the top of his voice. It was all useless and they both knew it, so why weren’t they listening? They had already been on it for a month, and it hadn’t made the slightest difference.  
‘Bloody charlatans! Fuck off my legs, you perverted bastard sons of a devil!’ Killian was roaring, aiming at Rhyl with a saucepan, after his husband caught in the air the fork, that Killian threw at him before.  
Rhyl’s eyes flashed with anger and it seemed like he was going to lose it at last – he was aiming at Killian’s right knee with a fork in his hand, driving it towards his defenceless leg at a full speed.  
Killian screamed in terror, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for a horrible, dreadful flair of pain, that wasn’t coming.  
When he opened his eyes, the fork in his husband’s hand was hovering inches above where Killian’s knee should be, if only he hadn’t moved slightly to the side. Killian had moved his right leg.  
He was staring at his husband with his eyes bulging, mouth open and his jaw hanging limply, taking fast, shallow breaths, like a fish out of water. Rhyl burst out with hysterical laughter at the sight of Killian’s face, and holding onto his stomach, went outside to call his brother.  
‘I need to write to my dad’ said Killian later that day, when all three of them were sitting by the fire with a large glass of liquor each, celebrating.  
Rhyl left Killian’s left side and went to get ink and paper, while Radyr left Killian’s right side to remind his brother that they had some nicer paper, stored in the drawer by the window.  
If Killian hurried up, his letter would reach dad before Christmas.

 

Killian would still scream and shout at his husbands during his exercises, but now it was because they wouldn’t let him do as many, as he wanted. Killian had regained his fighting spirit, and as soon as he realised that there was something, after all, that he could do to start walking again, he was determined to give it his best shot. He would stay in the pool until the tips of his fingers wrinkled, because when he was in the water, he would be able to see his progress best. He now had a good range of movement in his right leg and could lift his foot as high as ten inches from the bottom of the pool, but his left leg was still being lazy, hardly lifting up at all.  
Dad’s reply arrived a week after the first snow, and he sent Killian a large box of gingerbread biscuits and three bottles of granddad’s blackcurrant wine, along with the Christmas presents for all three of them. Dad was overjoyed at Killian’s improvement and he now regretted selling his only son to the pair of wild Southerners a little bit less. The bakery was doing well and dad hired a new manager recently, who seemed to be doing promising enough to perhaps allow dad to leave the bakery in his charge one day, and visit Killian in a few years time.  
At the bottom of the letter was a small note, thanking Killian’s husbands for sending the mysterious brown powder, that helped greatly with dad’s stomach ulcers, asking whether it would be possible to get some more. Killian looked at the twins questioningly, but they only shrug their shoulders. Killian didn’t even know that his dad suffered from stomach ulcers.  
The Christmas came and went, with all three of them getting absolutely wasted on the blackcurrant wine and the brothers’ liquors. His husbands cooked proper dinner, but the one cake that they made was utter crap – just like Killian’s dad could bake but not cook, his husbands were great at meats and stews, but not bread or cakes. Killian wished that he were well enough to be able to show them how to do it properly, but his legs were still far too weak to allow him to stand.  
They were well into the new year, when Killian realised that he had been married for almost four months now, and during that time he had not seen a single soul, except for his husbands and some worried-looking villagers, coming to their doors at all times of the night and day, asking for medical help. His husbands would see them in the room where Killian had initially slept, and at least once a week one of the brothers would be called to some emergency in the area, while his twin stayed behind to look after Killian. The brothers now started taking him for very slow horse rides into the forest, walking on both sides of the horse themselves, in case Killian fell off the saddle, and sometimes Killian could see some farmers in the distance, but that was as far as it went. The horse rides did wonders for his legs, though.  
Both Rhyl and Radyr seemed to detest leaving their beloved farmhouse at all, and they appeared to be perfectly happy with their isolated life; especially now, that they had Killian. They spent their days making their powders and potions and caring for the two cows, three horses and ten chickens, and Killian had to admit that he had never seen better looked after animals. Then there were the cats, of course, that the brothers spoiled and adored, allowing them to sleep all day in front of the two fires, that were always going at both ends of the herb drying house. The three fluffy creatures were still decent enough to catch mice and protect the brothers’ herbs, roots and berries from damage, despite how lazy and well fed they were. Killian liked the cats himself, and unlike his husbands, he did not mind whenever one of them managed to sneak into the house – dad had always had cats at the bakery, and Killian loved to play with them, when he was little.  
Most people would perhaps consider his husbands odd and peculiar, and so did Killian, but he liked them anyway. The problem was that as content as his husbands were with their hermit existence, this was hardly a lifestyle that Killian would have chosen for himself. When he had still been bedridden and hopeless, the farmhouse had been a safe haven, where Killian had been happy to stay forever, but the stronger his legs were becoming, the more Killian missed the parties and busy social life that he used to have before the accident.  
When it was already spring and Killian started limping around the house on crutches, his husbands gave in and promised to take him to church, and then to the pub, the following Sunday. Killian knew that there was a town nearby, the name of which he vaguely remembered from his geography lessons, and was more than keen to explore.  
Killian was only joking when he told his husbands that they should shave before presenting their wife to the world, but to his surprise, they took him seriously, and now Killian was looking at the faces of two strangers, who had his husbands’ eyes. With their neatly trimmed hair, long noses and narrow lips, they looked weirdly sophisticated, and resembled Killian greatly of one of his teachers back at the Academy. At first, he could not wait for their beards to grow back, but soon enough, he was not able to stop looking.  
When Radyr trimmed Killian’s own hair and pressed one of his less fancy shirts and a his favourite everyday jacket for him, the clothes fitted Killian well. His husbands insisted that he wore his gold bangles, that they had given him on their wedding day, and Killian was happy to oblige. He could sense how important it was for the twins, even though the bangles clinkered ridiculously with Killian’s every move and were getting on his nerves. Smartly dressed and well-groomed, Killian looked into the mirror and saw his old self again. There were new lines between his eyebrows and around his mouth, coming from the pain, but he also had some small wrinkles around his eyes from laughing. He no longer had dark circles around his eyes, and all that crazy sex and splashing in the pool did wonders for his skin, which now looked better and more radiant, than ever. His husbands seemed to share his opinion, and they were looking at him with the all-familiar fire burning in the yellowish-green eyes.  
Killian would perhaps be able to get to the church in the horse saddle now, but his husbands had already prepared the cart. He sat in between them, sighing in excitement.  
They quickly reached the nearby village, on the outskirts of which their farmhouse was placed, and half an hour later, they were driving on the cobbled streets of the Southern town, that looked exactly like a postcard, that someone might send from a country holiday. There were even some thatched roofs in sight, and a large well with ancient looking crane in the middle of the town square. Killian was mesmerised – the little town was adorable, and all the buildings looked like gingerbread houses. To make it even better, he had already located the pub.  
When they stopped in front of the church, Killian simply took his husbands by their arms for support and walked into the church on his own legs, even though very slowly. They were ones of the first to arrive and the church was almost empty, when they took their seats at the back row.  
Killian was watching the Harza people filling the church gradually, grateful that his husbands had advised him to wear such a modest outfit – even in his everyday clothes, he still felt like a bloody peacock, compared to everyone else. He already knew that there were no women in the whole shire, but what shocked him more was how many fertiles he was suddenly surrounded with – as rare as Killian’s gender was, back in the Capital he would be lucky to find more than five fertiles in the same room at the time, outside of the Academy. Here, every man had a fertile at his side, dripping with gold and surrounded by sons. Even though the majority of the wives were foreign, the Harza people still seemed to form a very tight community somehow. Everyone looked rather happy and in good health, and they all stared at Killian curiously, chuckling and pointing at him openly, when he bared his white teeth in a confident smile. His husbands appeared to be rather proud of him.  
The church was now full, but it seemed like everyone was still waiting for someone to arrive. Soon enough, the church door opened for the last time and a young, white couple walked in, holding hands and followed by a pair of servants, carrying a black-haired toddler. The man at the front was tall and good-looking, and his wife was one of the most handsome fertiles, that Killian had ever seen. Their fast steps reverberated loudly off the walls of the church, and Killian realised that everyone present had fallen silent at their arrival. As soon as the young couple and their servants took their seats at the front row, the mass started.  
‘Leader’ whispered Rhyl to Killian’s ear.  
‘Very boring’ added Radyr, chuckling.

 

When the mass ended, Killian and his husbands stayed in their seats until the church almost emptied. Killian had another chance to look at the beautiful fertile and his grumpy-looking husband, and even when the three of them were already at the pub, he still could not get their faces out of his mind. Or the fertile’s face, to be more precise.  
All the other men and fertiles in the pub surrounded Killian, introducing themselves and welcoming him to the shire. None of them spoke a word of Main, and they cheered loudly when they found out that Killian knew a bit of Harza.  
‘They will fix you, not to worry’ they were saying one through another. No one seemed to mind that he was a cripple, and they all had as much confidence in his husbands as himself, so Killian happily accepted another drink. To his surprise, the twins seemed to be popular to some extent, although the men and fertiles weren’t as friendly with them, as they were with each other.  
‘How do you do that, you know, in bed?’ asked a very drunken fertile in his fifties. ‘All three of you together?’  
Radyr, who was sitting on the edge seat, stood up and punched the fertile on the face with so much force, that the poor drunkard fell off his chair.  
Everyone roared with laughter, Killian included.  
They were having a great time, and the card games that they were playing were exactly the same, as the ones that Killian used to play back in the Capital, so the language problem was no longer.  
When a fight started by the bar, and his husbands jumped to their feet keenly, Killian had no problem convincing them to take him along, and he managed to beat some rude Northern bastard to a pulp, before he ended up on the floor with a bleeding split on his cheekbone.  
His husbands dragged him back to their cart, all three of them very drunk and dishevelled, singing on top of their voices and laughing madly.

 

After having his first taste of the Southern social life, Killian was keen for more, but his husbands kept brushing him off.  
‘Fuck off’ they would say in a perfect Main pronunciation.  
His husbands’ Main vocabulary was expanding every day, but their repertoire of swearwords was particularly impressive. Killian mentally reminded himself to start watching his tongue during his exercise sessions.  
‘Once a year is more than enough church for us’ insisted the twins in Harza, burying themselves deeper in their seats, books and liquor already at their sides.  
Their thick, greying facial hair started to grow back and they were so ridiculously handsome, compared to the pair of barbarians that Killian had married, that he still could not believe his eyes. They noticed how Killian was looking at them, and took advantage of it that same night.  
Killian always enjoyed a nice, long bath before fucking, and wasn’t expecting anything unusual to happen when his husbands took him to the bathhouse again. There was some weird container that Killian had never seen before on one of the shelves, and something that looked like a rubber pipe, sticking out of it, but Killian was too distracted to pay it any attention. Perhaps it was rather strange, that his husbands preferred to kiss and fondle on the floor next to the pool, rather than just jump straight into the water, but Killian didn’t mind. But that was until they put him on his side, and the one behind him started to play with his arsehole.  
That was something that even the most open-minded Capital libertines did not talk about, and Killian tensed immediately.  
Radyr was looking him deep in the eye, while rubbing himself suggestively against Killian’s front, while Rhyl, who was the one behind him, was doing exactly the same against Killian’s buttocks.  
Perhaps he could be a bit curious, just a little. Killian nodded slightly and immediately started to regret it.  
His husbands had never done anything to him that Killian would not have enjoyed, eventually, but inserting something into his arsehole, while pouring water inside, was definitely not on the list. It was only because they took him by surprise that he allowed them to go as far as that, and now Radyr had to sit on his legs, while Rhyl was restraining him by the arms, and the water kept pouring inside Killian.  
Killian was furious and he deeply disliked the sensation, but his husbands managed to convince him to go along with it, promising that it would get nicer. Afterwards, Radyr handed him a large bucket, smiling and looking handsome.  
He had already done more humiliating things than that in front of his husbands, and considering that by then Killian was in a rather large discomfort, he had no problems emptying his bowels over the bucket, while held and supported by the men, who were to blame.  
They had to try much harder to convince Killian to let them do it to him for the second time. Killian was full of doubt, but not really afraid that much. After what they had been through together, he now trusted his husbands. Killian knew that as unpleasant as what they were doing to him was, it wasn’t going to harm him – he knew that people had it done to them before giving birth. But he wasn’t even pregnant, for fuck’s sake, he thought, driving his sharp elbow into someone’s side and evoking a yelp of pain.  
When they were done, eventually, and went into the pool, both of his husbands were doing their best to get Killian in a mood.  
Since he’d already been through the worst part, though Killian rebelliously, perhaps he might as well find out what everyone in the Capital was blushing about.  
His husbands took him into the bedroom, but not to the bed – Radyr undressed himself and Killian did the same, dropping his bathrobe to the floor. Radyr kissed him, and it was so nice to be able to kiss him back, while standing. Rhyl was now behind Killian, sucking on the skin of Killian’s neck and taking him by the hand, and before Killian knew what was happening, both of his arms were behind his back and Rhyl was tying them up with the cord of Killian’s own bathrobe.  
They had done it before, so Killian wasn’t that surprised. His body seemed to know what was coming next and he was already getting aroused – it was an involuntarily reflex, and it happened every time his husbands tied him up.  
They could have just walked him to the bed, but they carried him instead. Radyr lay flat on the mattress and Killian was placed on top of him, straddling him. His tights were now strong enough to support his weight, and when Rhyl pushed him from behind, Killian ended up with his butt in the air, and his face on Radyr’s chest. They made sure that he was comfortable, and Rhyl tighten the cord around Killian’s wrists.  
Both of his husbands seemed to be extremely excited, and Killian wondered how long had they been wanting to do it to him. Radyr caressed his arms and back, while his brother started to play with Killian’s arsehole again, pouring some rapeseed oil over it.  
All that Killian could do, when he felt the first finger pushing inside him, was to moan on a flat, single note, and that was pretty much what he was going to do for the rest of the night. It didn’t feel unpleasant – it felt alien, as if it was not even a sensation coming from his body anymore. It was definitely, certainly, something unnatural.  
Killian couldn’t even move anymore, when Rhyl started doing something more to him, and now it felt like the finger was looking for a place inside him; his husband found his gland and circled it gently, and Killian was fervently trying to remember everything that he had ever learned during his anatomy classes. Is that how it worked, then? Killian heard more of those monotonous, helpless moans coming from his own throat.  
Radyr was saying something reassuringly and Rhyl was patting him comfortingly on the arse, but Killian did not need to be bound to stay still and passive anymore. His arsehole was doing things, contracting and fighting against now two fingers being pushed inside, but the rest of Killian’s body was asleep and he could hardly even breathe anymore. It was like he was being held under some powerful spell.  
If Killian ever thought that the inside of his cunt was the most sensitive place in his body, he now knew better. He could hear Rhyl’s fastening breath, when he managed to stretch him out even more, and Killian knew that his husband was now mad with arousal. Some part of him wanted to give it to him, while his brain, that knew that it was going to end badly, was staying dead silent.  
His husbands noticed his hypnotised state and went silent themselves, and all that Killian could hear were Rhyl’s loud breathing and Radyr’s rapid heartbeat, and wet, slopping noises that his own arsehole was making. When Radyr pulled himself to a half-sitting position, taking Killian with him, and when he found his lips with his own, while grabbing his arse strongly and pulling his buttcheeks apart, Killian hardly even twitched under his touch. His other husband was now going to bugger him, and no matter how bad it was going to feel, Killian was not going to do anything to stop him.  
They often played that game where his husbands were pretending that they were forcing him, but ever since their first time together, it was just a game. Every time Killian cried and begged the twins to stop, he also loved it, when they didn’t. Perhaps his husbands had a rather flexible approach to his consent, but as it turned out, Killian was just as perverted as them in that respect. He knew that if he really meant it, they would listen and let him go, but he never wanted them to.  
Killian always had a strong sense of entitlement when it came to people in his life, there was no denying that. His friends worshipped him – why wouldn’t they? Amos had fallen in love with him at the first sight – he had hardly been the first one to do that. Killian’s husbands adored him, spoiled him and made their sex life a delight, while Killian just lay back and enjoyed it – it was all as it should be. Killian wasn’t very good at giving back, but that did not mean that he didn’t want to.  
Perhaps letting his husbands fuck him in the arse was a stupid way to show that Killian cared, but if that’s what Rhyl was so desperate for, Killian was going to at least try.  
It hurt, but it was a bad pain only at first. For a moment it felt as if Rhyl was not going to be able to do it after all, but then he pushed with more force, and rather than break, Killian’s body opened up enough to let him inside. Killian was making that flat noise again, that was coming from somewhere away from him. Rhyl was now buried to the hilt and Killian could feel his balls touching against his groin, and his husband was moaning like Killian had never heard him moan before.  
Radyr was moving underneath him, and his husbands seemed to have communicated with each other without words, and now they were trying to guide Killian’s hips, so that he could take Radyr into his cunt. Killian shivered and moaned pitifully, but his husbands held him and kissed him and told him that they loved him, and that they would never hurt him. It happened in the end, and now Killian had both of them inside, and he had no idea how to process so many sensations coming from his body all at once. He was certain that they had to damage something there; it just didn't feel possible for his body to stretch so much. Tears started to run down his face, and his husbands wanted to comfort him, but they were now possessed and could not help it, when they started to fuck him together. They were grinding against each other inside Killian, while rocking him between themselves, and Killian knew that they had both long lost control. Killian just moaned and let them use him, let them do whatever they wanted.  
His hands were untied for him, and they found their way around Radyr’s neck. Radyr gasped and kissed him for a long time, and Killian understood how important the gesture was for his husbands. Killian was shaking very badly when he leaned against Radyr’s chest, putting his head on Radyr’s arm, and when Rhyl started to kiss him on the neck, he tilted his head to the side a bit to give him more skin to bite and suck on. It seemed to please Rhyl so much, and Killian really wanted to accept the unnatural, mostly painful sensation coming from his arsehole, but that was not going to happen any time soon.  
They managed to make him come, eventually, but it was just his body that was spasming and contracting around them; Killian’s mind wasn’t there. He could only hold onto Radyr’s neck stronger, when they started to fuck him fervently, forcing themselves even deeper inside, hurting him. Radyr was first, screaming and forgetting himself, coming inside Killian for the first time. Rhyl put his arms around Killian’s waist, closing them so tightly, that Killian started to fear that he was going to crush his ribs, still moaning and fucking him brutally for few more minutes. He came after Killian stroked the arms that were holding him so closely and took Rhyl by the hand, joining their fingers. Rhyl yelped desperately, as if in great pain, and bit on Killian’s arm so strongly, that his teeth pierced Killian’s skin. He was leaning limply against his back next, too heavy for Killian to be able to support his weight, and both of them ended up collapsing on top of Radyr; a mass of exhausted, violated, joined bodies.  
His husbands were so loving and gentle, when they cleaned him with a wet cloth and took him into their arms, even though they were as shattered as himself. Killian’s heart broke at the worried looks on their faces.  
‘May take some getting used to’ he said softly, kissing Rhyl first, and Radyr second.

 

Killian had to practice getting in and out of the cart, while supporting himself on crutches, many times, before his husbands agreed to let him drive by himself to church the following Sunday. Killian knew how to drive a cart – he had been doing it since he was twelve, helping his dad at the bakery. Seeing how confident he was, the twins no longer objected.  
‘Don’t fuck anyone and come back for the night’ they told him in Harza, before locking themselves back in the house happily.  
Killian took the same sit at the back of the church, that he had occupied last time. An older fertile with badly injured nose and large bruises around his eyes was waving at him, and Killian recognised him eventually as the one who had been asking rude questions at the pub. The fertile dragged his husband along and they both sat next to Killian, greeting him like an old friend and introducing him to their sons and their families.  
Killian was trying his best to make a conversation with the couple in his limited Harza, but his eyes kept wandering around the church. He could not wait to see the Leader couple again.  
They arrived last, just like they had a week ago, and the wife was even more handsome than Killian remembered. He was holding his head high, as if fully aware of the great impression that he was making, looking proud and distant, like one of those high-born fertiles back in the Capital, that Killian never mixed with. Killian would perhaps start feeling sorry for the handsome fertile’s husband, if only the man did not wear a similar expression himself.  
Even his rowdy companions shut their mouths to follow the Leader couple with their eyes, and when the mass started, the fertile poked Killian on the ribs with his elbow, pointing to the front row.  
‘Leader’s wife good’ he explained to Killian in simple Harza, and all the people who turned in their seats, offended by their loud talking, were now nodding in approval.  
Killian waited in his seat until the Leader couple left again, his eyes fixed on the wife’s beautiful, unmoving face; as if the fertile’s features were carved in ice.

 

After many pleasant hours at the pub and losing all his money in cards, Killian returned home mostly thanks to the fact, that his horse knew the way.  
His husbands had to drag him inside, completely drunk and unable to even find his crutches, let alone use them.  
‘Fuck me in the arse again’ Killian demanded, after they undressed him.  
It was Rhyl again who did it, but it was different this time. With his body relaxed by the alcohol, Killian felt almost comfortable with his husbands penetrating him both at once, and he was even beginning to enjoy how close to them it made him feel. Like the three of them were just one body, moving together and all feeling the same thing.  
‘Do you want to go to church again next Sunday?’ asked Rhyl in Harza, after he regained his composure.

 

The following Sunday the church was much emptier, and his friend’s husband and sons weren’t at his side.  
‘Large convoy’ his friend explained, and Killian immediately remembered what the twins had told him about the main source of income for Harza families.  
When the handsome fertile arrived at church this time, he was holding his son in his arms, and his Leader husband was also missing. Killian felt strangely happy about that.  
When he saw the fertile walking outside with the child, like he had two weeks previously, Killian followed, moving as fast as he could on his crutches.  
‘Your name is Jay, is that right?’ he approached him, speaking in Main. ‘They told me that you also come from the Capital.’  
‘You must be the famous wife of the twins’ answered Jay, smiling slightly, and it was the most beautiful smile that Killian had ever seen. ‘The whole town is talking about you.’  
Killian laughed, scratching his head in pretended embarrassment.  
The little boy did not seem happy that someone was stealing his mother’s attention, and he started pulling on Jay’s sleeve.  
‘Mama, up!’ he demanded, and Jay lifted him in his arms.  
Jay’s toddler had black eyes and black hair. If it weren’t for his light complexion and small lips, he would look exactly the same as Killian did on his childhood portrait. Maybe that’s what his and Amos’s sons would be like, if they had ever married.  
‘Are you not feeling well?’ asked Jay with concern, and Killian realised that he really liked Jay’s voice. ‘There is a bench just a few steps away, perhaps it would be best if you sat down.’  
From up close, Jay’s eyes turned to be green, not blue, and his nose was much more nicely shaped than Amos’s, but his hair wasn’t as blond as his fiancés. They hardly resembled each other, but made Killian feel exactly the same.  
‘I’m going to the pub after the mass. Fancy coming for a few drinks?’ he asked lightly, his heart beating madly in his chest.  
Normally, Killian would think twice before acting in such a direct manner towards someone of Jay’s status, but he knew that the Southern people were much less formal, than the Capital ones.  
‘I would have to ask Caleb first’ answered Jay, and he no longer looked distant and proud – he now seemed to be much younger than his age would allow.  
‘Who’s Caleb? Is that your mother-in-law?’  
‘He’s our servant’ replied Jay, and a surprise must have shown on Killian’s face, because Jay added quickly: ‘He’s much more than just a servant, really...’  
It sounded like Jay was now almost justifying himself in embarrassment, and it seemed so out of place for someone of his rank.  
‘I better go back’ said Jay, getting up from the bench. ‘Hugo!’ he called.  
Jay’s toddler, who had been busying himself with chasing ants on the pavement so far, was now running to his mother with a big smile on his face. He tripped and almost fell, but Jay caught him just in time.  
‘Gotcha’ called Jay, lifting Hugo up and laughing out loud along the child, and Killian could not take his eyes off them.

 

When Jay walked into the pub later that afternoon, everyone moved to the sides to make room for him, and the best table by the window was miraculously vacated in a flash. The pub landlord stepped from behind the bar to guide Jay to it himself, bowing his head low. Killian had never seen him doing that before, and he hadn’t even been certain whether the man had legs at all.  
Killian was waving from his corner and sitting opposite Jay as fast as his crutches would allow, before the now familiar look of embarrassment had time to spread fully over Jay’s beautiful features – Jay now looked at him with relief instead, as if he hadn’t been certain to find Killian in the pub at all.  
The pub landlord took their orders, and Jay asked for wine. Who on Earth ordered wine in a pub? thought Killian with amusement, asking for a third beer himself.  
Jay turned out to be a rather interesting companion, until Killian realised that it was him, who was doing all the talking; something that his friends always pointed out to him.  
‘Enough about me...’ he said apologetically, but Jay did not seem to mind that much, actually. ‘I can’t remember seeing you at the Academy, but then you are perhaps a year or two younger than me...’ Killian was determined to give Jay a chance to speak at last.  
‘I will be twenty-one this summer’ said Jay softly.  
He was much younger than Killian had presumed, considering that he already had a child, which looked around two years old. It took ages for fertiles to fall pregnant.  
‘Oh!’ he exclaimed, doing the calculations in his head.‘ You must have been extremely lucky then, getting pregnant so quickly. If you don’t mind me saying so’ he added, remembering who he was talking to.  
‘Hugo... Hugo is my stepson’ muttered Jay, and he started to twirl his hear with his fingers.  
That would explain why the toddler had black hair, while none of his parents did. He watched as Jay uncurled a long blond strand off his index finger – Jay’s hair wasn’t as short as most fertiles’. It looked very soft and Killian would love to be able to touch it.  
Their drinks arrived, and Jay was now fiddling with his wine glass. Killian could not help noticing that Jay’s fingernails were bitten to the quick.  
‘I’m not that good at small talk’ said Jay eventually, looking at him apologetically.  
Killian rushed to contradict, while starting to feel a bit uncomfortable himself. He was now almost regretting inviting Jay for a drink – he should have listened to his instincts; him and the likes of Jay were never going to be friends.  
‘You went to the Academy, then? Did you like it there?’ asked Jay a bit miserably, as if he were thinking exactly the same thing.  
Killian leaned back in his seat, smiling at the memory. From there on, the conversation flowed. Jay was the best listener that Killian had ever had, and he laughed at all of Killian’s jokes, as if he had never heard any of them before. By their third round of drinks, Jay’s eyes were sparkling, and his cheeks were pink from the wine. He looked so bloody attractive, and Killian just knew that men must had been falling to his feet back in the Capital. Jay was just one of those perfect fertiles, that Killian’s grandfather was always comparing him to.  
‘They had me on crutches within five months, while none of the Capital doctors gave me a chance to ever walk again’ finished Killian, realising that he had just told Jay the story of his life, including Amos and the circumstances around his marriage to the twins. ‘They are all right, really, my husbands’ he said, taking another long sip on his beer, before leaning on his elbows, his face close to Jay’s. ‘To be frank, first time we did it I half-expected them to just spread my legs, rape me and then walk away, but actually...’  
Jay’s face blanched and he looked like he had just seen a ghost.  
‘I’m sorry’ muttered Killian, sobering up instantly. ‘A bit too graphic, I suppose...’  
Jay laughed, but it did not sound honest. He took a fast sip of his own drink, almost choking on it.  
‘You must be someone special, you know’ he was saying very quickly, looking rather nervous. ‘The twins never as much as looked at anyone else before, from what I have heard, and I know for certain that they had many opportunities to marry before.’  
Killian smiled slightly, tilting his head to the side. He often wondered how his husbands had coped so long by themselves, considering their rather large sexual appetites.  
‘I know what you did there’ he told Jay, realising that his speech was becoming a bit slurred. ‘You made me feel good about myself, and that’s not something that comes my way easily, these days...’  
Jay laughed, but Killian could not shake a strange feeling, that there was something in Jay’s laughter, that he should be paying attention to.

 

His husbands told him all that they knew about Jay, and Killian was left speechless for many minutes.  
Bought from the human hunters, like a slave. No living family, and some very odd story around his background and education. Very private and hardly leaving the house by himself. Completely devoted to his husband, who, no matter how Killian looked at it, sounded like an abusive, controlling prick, who had not even tried to hide his relief when his first wife died in childbirth, and who now completely ignored his son.  
When Jay had barely blushed at Killian’s colourful accounts of his philandering throughout his youth, he had presumed that his fellow compatriot must be as acquainted as himself with what the life of a fertile back in the Capital had to offer – with Jay’s looks, Killian could not see it being any other way. What if he had been wrong? What if Jay’s life had been nothing like his own? He was so curious about Killian’s years at the Academy, and it was clear that he had never attended it himself. Had he been brought up by one of those backwards, orthodox families, who still disagreed with gender equality? And then, there was Jay’s reaction to Killian’s rude account of his first time with his husbands, that Killian still could not decipher.  
Killian suddenly started feeling very protective of Jay. He knew how isolating the life at the top could be, as he had many negative experiences himself, with people pretending to be his friends just to benefit from his high social status of a fertile. Poor Jay, with no one but his old servant to talk to. And Killian had made all those assumptions about him after barely taking one look at him... He was feeling very ashamed of himself.  
His husbands thought that it was going to do him a lot of good.

 

Killian was at Jay’s side moments after the mass ended, ignoring the offended looks of Jay’s servants at such forwardness. And everyone else’s, for that matter.  
‘Fancy another drink? On me this time.’  
Jay refused, explaining that little Hugo had not been well lately, and perhaps it was best for Jay not to leave his side.  
Killian’s face fell and he almost started to stumble away on his crutches to ride back home, when Jay invited him to his house for dinner instead.  
‘It’s a bit of a walk, but if you wouldn’t mind waiting outside, I could ask Vincent to bring the carriage...’  
Killian smiled brilliantly, pointing at his cart. They ended up riding in it together, and Hugo jumped on his stepmother’s lap whenever they bounced on the cobbled streets.  
Jay seemed to be very confident in his role of a host, but when Killian looked closer, he noticed that Jay’s hands were trembling a little, when he poured them wine.  
Hugo would not leave Jay alone even for a minute, but Killian did not mind, as it seemed to help Jay relax.  
‘Show mister Killian your toy that daddy made for you’ said Jay to the boy.  
Hugo returned with his pull along horse proudly, and Killian played with him on the drawing room floor for a bit. He didn’t actually like children that much, but he had always enjoyed spending time with uncle George’s little boy.  
When dinner was ready, they moved to the dining room.  
‘Soup is very good’ said Killian in Harza, offering his compliments to Caleb, who was sitting opposite him.  
‘Actually, I made it, but thank you anyway’ replied Jay in fluent Harza, smiling.  
His grandfather would love Jay; Killian just knew it.  
By the end of the day, Killian and Hugo were best friends. As it turned out, when it came to talking about his stepson, Jay’s mouth would not close for hours, as if he were just too happy to finally have something interesting to say.  
His husbands could not believe their eyes when Killian came back home early and sober, and listened to the account of his dinner with the Leader’s wife with frowns on their faces.  
‘Don’t look at me like that; I know that he is a bit boring, especially when he keeps talking about the kid, but there is no one else speaking Main in the whole bloody shire! And he’s bringing Hugo here tomorrow, there is something wrong with his ear and he won’t stop scratching it.’  
His husbands groaned in unison, and Killian remembered how much they hated having guests.

 

Rhyl and Radyr took one look at the pretty black-haired child, and next thing Killian knew they were sitting him on the kitchen table, producing some toys that Killian didn’t even know they had, while examining his ear, so that Hugo wouldn’t even notice what they were doing.  
‘Look what you’ve done’ Killian told Jay accusingly. ‘They are all broody now; thanks very much.’  
His husbands seemed to be much more comfortable in Hugo’s company than Jay’s, and eventually they left them to themselves, while Killian showed Jay around his house, until his legs and back started hurting too much and they had to move to sit in the living room. Two of the cats managed to sneak inside through the open window and Hugo could not be any happier, chasing them around the room on all fours.  
Since then, Jay was a frequent guest at Killian’s farmhouse, as his husbands announced that Hugo’s ear required frequent checkups, although Killian knew that it was bullshit. Perhaps Jay knew it as well, which was why his eyes were shining so strangely, when he took his stepson back from Rhyl’s arms that day.  
Getting to know Jay was like solving a very complicated puzzle, with only few clues and plenty of traps around Killian. It took six horse rides to the forest, three more dinners at Jay’s and another trip to the pub, but Jay had still revealed hardly anything about himself to Killian. By the time his Leader husband was due to come back, he already knew Killian inside out, except that he had no idea how Killian felt about him.  
His husbands knew, of course, and they mocked Killian about it no end, but they never tried to stop him from seeing Jay.

 

When James jumped off his horse, Jay was already walking towards him, and James bowed low to his wife and kissed him on the hand, while everyone around them watched.  
As soon as the door of their house closed behind them, Jay’s arms were around his neck and James lifted his wife from the floor, wrapping Jay’s legs around his waist, while trying to feel with his hand for a good step to sit on; and that’s how Caleb found them. Sitting on the steps and kissing madly.  
Dinner was a very quick affair and it was still bright outside, but they were already naked and in bed. James was so happy, that it almost hurt.  
‘I have made a friend’ said Jay, after they finished talking about everything else.  
‘Have you?’ murmured James distractedly, his mind and hands on Jay again.  
Rather than answering, Jay opened his legs for him, taking him into his arms and making him feel more loved and wanted, than anyone ever had. James knew that his wife would never refuse himself to his husband, but always liked to find it out again, because James still could not believe that Jay was finally his.  
When Jay was already lying on James’s chest, panting loudly and with his lips red and swollen, James remembered that his wife was trying to tell him something. It sounded like it was important to Jay, but what did James do? He started to feel guilty instantly – guilt now seemed to be inseparably linked with his love for Jay.  
‘Who is that friend of yours, then?’ James asked softly, and watched as his wife’s face lit up.  
His heart only twisted more painfully in his chest. Why did he have to be so selfish all the time? He was a stupid, stupid man.  
‘I’ve never had a friend before’ said Jay, unknowingly torturing James even more. ‘I was afraid that I wouldn’t know how what to do, but he’s very easy to talk to...’  
James knew the crippled fertile that Jay was talking about. He had seen him in church and taken instant dislike to him. Yet, it did not matter whether James liked him or not, as long as Jay did.  
‘He’s so funny and smart, he’s been to University...’ continued Jay, sounding very impressed.  
I’ve been to University too, thought James defiantly.  
‘He has already told me so much about himself, and I know that he would like to find out more about me, but I never know what to say...’  
Jay was now looking at him with that sad, anxious expression, that James saw less of nowadays, and which he hoped was going to disappear completely one day.  
‘You could just tell him the truth if you want...’ said James reassuringly, but he knew that Jay needed more than that. ‘You know how proud I am of you... You are my miracle and I love you most in the world...’  
Jay clung on to him very strongly and would not let go for a long time, as if he needed James as much, as James needed him. James didn’t know why his words always made Jay react like that, ever since he started saying them months ago, but knew somehow to keep repeating them, as he rocked his wife in his arms.  
‘Tell the truth... I thought as much myself, but I wanted to ask you first’ whispered Jay, and he was looking at James with nothing but trust in his eyes.  
James’s heart melted.  
‘Perhaps you could invite your friend for dinner again?’ James heard himself saying.

 

Shortly after Jay’s husband left with another convoy, Killian started to practice walking with only one crutch, instead of two, like he’d done so far. His husbands had found some more books somewhere and Killian’s exercise routine had been updated, and it was finally beginning to pay off.  
His left leg was still much weaker than the right one, and his husbands worried that it may never recover completely. Killian was upset when they broke it to him, but after all, he considered it a small inconvenience, compared to what he had been like a year ago.  
Jay was even more quiet and withdrawn in the first days after the Leader’s departure, and Killian knew that his friend missed his husband.  
Having gotten to know James a bit better, Killian now disliked him more than ever, but even his biased eyes could not ignore the fact that the Leader couple seemed to be deeply attached to each other. He knew, of course, that Jay worshipped the ground on which his husband walked, but Killian was surprised to discover that James seemed to care about his wife, too.  
The first time Killian and the Leader sat to dinner at the same table, Jay’s husband was either shooting daggers at Killian or avoiding his eyes altogether, but he still tried do engage him in a polite conversation, and when the dinner was over, he asked his wife whether Killian could be invited again, to Jay’s delight. And just like his husbands never refused to get Killian’s cart ready for him, whenever he wanted to go to see Jay, the Leader also didn’t seem to try to stop Jay from seeing Killian too much.  
He knew that James had paid his husbands a visit that one time, when Jay was invited to a school play by one of his colleagues from the Town Hall and took Killian with him for moral support. The twins dealt with the Leader ruthlessly.  
‘He think you like Jay too much’ stated Rhyl in Main over the chopping board in the workshop. ‘Want us keep you home more.’  
‘We tell him Killian well fucked and happy, and keep Jay home, and he leave’ chuckled Radyr, handing Killian more thyme stems to pluck.  
His husbands’ Main vocabulary was improving, but not their grammar. They were making so much effort to learn to speak to Killian in his language, even though they knew how comical Killian was finding it.

 

Between helping his husbands with their medicines, finally taking over the bread production, practicing his walking, while trying to learn to mount a horse by himself despite his left leg, frequenting the pub and spending the rest of his time with Jay, Killian was surprised how quickly the time was passing, as it was now almost Christmas again.  
Jay invited all three of them over on Boxing Day, and to Killian’s amazement, his already as hairy as on their wedding day husbands accepted the invitation, and shaved their beards again.  
‘Your uncle not only had no right to stop you from attending the Academy, Jay; what he did was plain abuse’ said Killian, when they were all in the drawing room together, drinking hot chocolate.  
Killian and James were sitting on both sides of Jay, while Killian’s husbands were trying to entertain Jay’s toddler, giving them five minutes of peace. Killian by now knew much more about Jay, but he was still making more shocking discoveries. Even his husbands seemed to be moved by some of the things that he had told them about Jay’s past, and they were making some effort to act a bit more civilised towards Killian’s best friend.  
‘Killian is right, Jay; even my mother had to attend the Academy, as it was already mandatory for fertiles back then...’ said James, putting his arm around his upset-looking wife.  
Whenever they ended up talking about Jay’s childhood, both James and Killian were happy to bury the hatchet and support Jay together. Jay looked from one of them to another, smiling slightly.  
Hugo could only be distracted for so long, before he remembered that his favourite uncle was in the room. He went to his mother for a cuddle, before, ignoring his father completely, he made a beeline for Killian, and climbed up to sit on his lap.  
‘I swear that he is not mine’ said Killian, and the room erupted in laughter.  
Someone on the outside could have easily presumed that Hugo was Killian’s son, as the child resembled him more than any of his parents. Killian knew that James was particularly resentful about their likeness, and after Killian had seen the portrait of his first wife, he now understood why. It was almost like seeing himself in a mirror.  
Jay was laughing so much that his eyes started to water, and even James smiled eventually.  
‘You may be a jerk, but you make him smile, I’ll give you that’ said James to Killian later that evening, when Jay went upstairs to put Hugo to bed.

 

Shortly after the New Year, a thick pile of letters arrived for Killian.  
He had found the courage to write to his old friends at last, since he now had something good to write about. They all got back to him, and demanded that he came to see them in the Capital this spring.  
Killian no longer used the cart, as he was now strong enough for the horse’s saddle. His walking was much better, but his back still hurt if he did too much of it. He could easily endure ten days of travel, and he was desperate to see his dad, but he knew just how much his husbands were going to hate the idea of leaving their beloved farmhouse for at least a month – which was as much as Killian despaired at the prospect of leaving Jay.  
Killian loved to tease Jay about how attractive he was finding him.  
‘You remind me of my first love’ he would say, watching Jay blush.  
Jay now knew, of course, that he was Killian’s second love, as he simply had to tell him, eventually. Jay panicked initially and avoided him for weeks, but he was now able to look Killian in the eye again. It was now sort of a joke between them, and Killian thought that Jay even enjoyed it a little, although he would never admit it himself.  
He loved Jay, but he was trying very hard to convince himself that it was just a platonic feeling. Even if Jay weren’t happily married, Killian wasn’t certain that he would be able to deny himself what he was getting in his own, absurd relationship with his wild, hairy husbands.  
During one of the long, dark winter nights, Killian finally cracked it.  
He no longer cringed when the twins were rinsing his bowels, as he was now so used to it. There were nights when his husbands would hardly even notice Killian’s cunt anymore, as they both had a strong preference for using his arsehole instead. Killian didn't, but he just liked seeing them going crazy with desire too much. They no longer even left him alone, when Killian was on his period; they would just stopper him with some gauze, and focus on what they liked best. Killian’s hands were still being held above his head, and his knees were being pulled to his chest with leather straps, except that now he was getting a pillow under his backside and long hours of foreplay, during which his husbands would tease his arsehole with strangely shaped, glass and metal things, that the twins had a vast collection of.  
Halfway through one particularly good round, Killian started touching Radyr there, as well.  
‘We can rinse’ offered both his husbands immediately, and that night Killian was the one who had them, rather than the other way around.  
‘Better than your brother?’ Killian asked afterwards.  
‘No’ answered Radyr, and Killian pinched him on the butt.  
His husbands were more than relieved that Killian did not seem to be judging them too harshly. Perhaps two years ago he would, but that had been a different life.

 

After talking to Jay about it, Killian decided to put his pride to the side and ask James, whether he could travel with him on the first spring convoy to the Capital.  
His husbands weren’t very happy, but they packed more herbs for Killian’s father and copious amounts for Killian for the journey, and gave him three times as much money as Killian needed.  
‘You can, you know... When I’m not here. You two. I don’t mind...’ Killian stammered on the morning of his departure.  
This was still not a subject that he was comfortable discussing.  
His husbands turned their heads.  
‘Not without you anymore’ they said in Main.  
Killian found it rather sweet.  
‘You see whores if you want’ his husbands returned the favour.  
‘What would I need whores for?’ asked Killian in earnest. He no longer found any appeal in fucking empty-eyed, passive women in their loose cunts.  
His husbands cheered up a bit, and put their arms around Killian. After they finished kissing, Rhyl looked at Killian with a solemn expression.  
‘You stay with dad if you more happy. We understand’ he said, and Killian’s heart melted.  
‘Don’t be stupid’ Killian said in a thick voice, hiding his face in his husband’s neck.  
He was going to come back, even if he didn’t want to; they were his husbands and his honour would never allow Killian to abandon them. He knew that the twins loved him – they told him again last night, while fucking him into oblivion. But as much as he liked them himself, Killian really didn’t know how he was going to feel after returning back home.

 

James was acting like an absolute dick, muttering under his nose that Killian better not slowed everyone down, but he was still making sure that his wife’s friend was fine and not in too much pain.  
Killian struggled, but no more than several teenagers, who joined their fathers on their first convoy ever, and were not used to the long days in a horse’s saddle. Killian’s legs were sore, but he now knew how to live with the pain, and it was not going to stop him from doing what he wanted. He wasn’t even the only cripple in their group – some of the men were missing limbs, one only had one eye and was half blind in the other, and they were all coping fine, so why wouldn’t Killian? Perhaps he was not able to help the group when one of the carts got stuck in the mud, but once they gave him a gun, Killian impressed everyone with his shooting skills, taking care of their dinner for the night. On the second day, Killian swapped with one of the men driving a cart, and that gave his legs some rest but not his back, so he figured out that as long as he kept swapping halfway through each day, he was going to be fine. After that, the journey turned out to be rather fun, and there was drinking and singing by the fire every night.  
‘In my grandfather’s day, you would be lucky to return home with two-thirds of your men still alive, but times have changed. People seemed to have figured out at last that it is in everyone’s best interest, that the convoys reach their destination safely, and we haven’t had any major attacks in three years now’ said James pompously, bringing Killian his dinner and sitting next to him by the fire, before Killian even had a chance to start a laborious process of trying to get up from the ground and go and get the food himself. James’s mollycoddling was pissing Killian off greatly.  
It took Killian and James three more days on the road, either grumpily tiptoeing around each other or openly avoiding one another, when the fight, that they were both so desperate for, finally broke out.  
They both had too much to drink and after James started treating him like a cripple, trying to help him get to where they were sleeping, Killian lashed out at him.  
‘I know what you did to Jay on his wedding night, you bastard!’ Killian was shouting in Main, hoping that no one around them was able to understand his words.  
James’s face blanched, and he was the one to throw the first punch.  
James was no match for him in a fight, and when they were finally separated by James’s men, he looked much worse for the wear than Killian did.  
They didn’t speak to each other for the rest of their journey to the Capital.

 

Dad burst into tears at the sight of Killian jumping off his horse and walking towards him, and he was hardly able to stop crying for the rest of that day.  
‘I really want you to visit next Summer, but don’t you dare setting a foot in my house, unless you are already married yourself’ said Killian, when, after dinner, both him and dad were drinking beer in their drawing room.  
Killian had never noticed before how noisy his family home in the middle of the village was. There were people talking and laughing on the pavement outside their windows, horse carts and carriages racketing on the cobbled streets and dogs forever barking in the background. How was he going to be able to sleep? Even the air was different, and Killian thought longingly of the earthy, leafy aroma that filled his farmhouse back in the South on a rainy day.  
Dad nodded and promised to start attending matchmaking parties and look at the advertisements. With his miracle son being strong, healthy and happy again, nothing was stopping him from buying a wife anymore.

 

During one of the many parties, that Killian attended over the two weeks of his stay in the Capital, to his great surprise, he bumped into James.  
It turned out that some of Killian’s acquaintances were also James’s friends, something that he should not really be that surprised about, considering that him and James were similar in age, and had both studied in the Capital.  
They ended up sitting at the same table, playing cards and smoking cigars, with two of James’s school friends at his sides.  
‘My wife is twice as intelligent and ten times as popular as me, so I’m expecting to receive my notice from the Town Hall any day now...’  
Killian laughed and when James met his eyes, he returned the smile.  
‘He’s not the one you were stalking all those years ago, is he?’ asked one of James’s friends.  
‘He is, of course he is! James never even looked at anyone else!’ another of James’s friends said.  
Killian furrowed his brows, confused. Everyone knew that James had bought his wife from human hunters and forced Jay to marry him, which was the main reason why Killian despised James so much. He had no idea that the couple had met before – Jay never said.  
They ended up sitting next to each other at the end of the party, and most people were already gone, but James seemed strangely reluctant to leave.  
‘I’m staying at my mother’s, and I would rather be anywhere else than there’ James explained, when Killian confronted him about it.  
‘You can stay at mine tonight, it’s only down the road’ said the alcohol swimming in Killian’s veins.

 

Killian’s dad, already in bed himself, got up as soon as he heard their voices coming from downstairs.  
‘Pleasure to meet you... I hope that you will be comfortable in our guest room... it’s all rather simple...’ he kept nattering, bringing them tea and home-made biscuits.  
James bowed low to Killian’s dad, before thanking him for his hospitality.  
‘Your mother is very kind’ James said, trying to help Killian get up the stairs, and withering under his offended gaze.  
‘That’s my dad, you moron, and he’s not even a fertile!’  
James was hardly the first one to make that mistake. Especially when Killian was younger, and going through the rebellious phase, refusing to wear his gold, people had often mistaken Killian for a boy, and his dad for a fertile mother. Killian could hardly blame them – not with dad being so caring and warm.  
When Killian showed him into his bedroom, James produced a bottle from the pocket of his jacket. They sat on the guest bed, speaking quietly, as to not wake Killian’s dad up.  
They were sitting in semi-darkness, telling each other secrets like some teenage girls. Killian was drunk and he found it very funny.  
‘Yes, mother is a pretentious bastard and I was sick of being in his presence after barely a day. What did Jay tell you?’ said James on one breath, and it took Killian a while to try to follow. ‘About our wedding night?’ James added nervously.  
Killian sighted and told James about what had happened at the pub during his first meeting with Jay.  
‘So Jay never even realised that what I did to him was wrong...’ whispered James with great pain in his voice, and he then told Killian everything.  
‘I still think that you are a bastard’ summarised Killian.

 

Dad’s face was crimson red, when the following morning both Killian and James walked out of the guestroom arm in arm.  
‘Dad, he’s a friend; we’ve been talking till late and we’ve fallen asleep!’ Killian was saying, unable to believe the absurdity of the situation.  
They were both hangover, but it was the first day of the Easter Market, and they wouldn’t miss it for the world. They borrowed dad’s carriage and went shopping, and Killian forgot to take his crutch.  
‘Are you not buying anything for your husbands?’ asked James, when Killian paid for another set of elegant liquor glasses and gemstone handle knives.  
‘Who do you think that is for – me?’ snapped Killian.  
He then noticed a pair of black horse riding gloves, that would look perfectly ordinary, if it weren’t for a small blue-winged bird, embroidered on the side of each of them.  
‘For Jay...’ pointed Killian, and James was already reaching into his pocket.  
In that precise moment, Killian lifted his eyes and saw Amos, watching them from few steps away.  
Killian smiled, and holding onto James’s arm as a crutch replacement, approached Amos, who seemed to be there by himself.  
‘Amos, this is James, James, this is Amos, my... my former fiancé’ Killian introduced them to each other.  
‘You look great’ muttered Amos, staring at James.  
James turned to Killian with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.  
‘We must get going, my mother is waiting for us’ he said, and then he kissed Killian on the cheek, while patting Killian’s hand, wrapped tightly around his own arm.  
At least dad didn’t see them this time, thought Killian.  
He knew that Amos was eventually going to find out that Killian was not married to a handsome southern Leader, but to the two wild, bearded men, if he didn’t know it already; the Capital could be a very small place sometimes. It was worth seeing the look on Amos’s face, though, when James kissed him.  
He never noticed before how large Amos’s nose was, and how protruding and watery his blue eyes were. Jay was far more beautiful than him.

 

His husbands celebrated Killian’s return by tying him up tighter than ever and sticking a very thin, very smooth steel rod very slowly inside his dick. Killian was certain that they were going to kill him this time. It was ten times as intense as having his arsehole fucked, and when he screamed and begged them to stop, they started twisting it inside him. Killian fainted.  
When he came round, the rod was now attached to his dick with a ring going under the tip, and Killian laughed when he noticed that the whole contraption wasn’t made of steel – it was gold.  
‘That will teach you to wear your bangles’ said the twins in Harza.  
His husbands took him both from each side, instantly making him come around the gold inside him, and they kept going until they decided that Killian was fucked well enough, after five long weeks of having nothing there.  
‘I missed you... and you...’ wheezed Killian, after they untied him.

 

When Killian visited Jay the following morning, he immediately noticed his friend’s red, swollen eyes.  
Killian went around the house until he found James, and he grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pinning him against the wall by his throat and lifting his fist to James’s face threateningly.  
‘I just wanted us to have more time to each other, before the baby comes!’ choked James.  
Killian let go of him immediately.  
‘Has he not told you? Act surprised when he tells you’ blabbed James, virtually bouncing with joy.  
As Jay later explained, James came up with a brilliant idea of sending Hugo to his mother’s family for the next few months, so that the Leader’s pregnant wife could get some rest.  
‘A two-and-half-year-old’ emphasised Jay, as if that explained everything.  
‘Is that too young?’ asked Killian stupidly, and Jay looked at him like he wanted to kill him.  
Jay wasn’t just happy – he was glowing. Killian was in mourning – his already quiet and withdrawn friend was about to become truly boring.  
He delivered the news to the twins later that day, and watched their moustaches twitch in smiles, and their eyes glow with warmth. It was making Killian uncomfortable.  
He had started missing Jay barely after a day in the Capital, but the twins even more, and by the end of his stay Killian had been absolutely pining for his husbands. He wondered whether any other man could ever make him feel that way, or even any other two men, for that matter. He did not know what love was anymore, but perhaps that could be it. For the time being, Killian was exactly where he wanted to be and who he wanted to be with, and a baby would only ruin everything.  
When James announced that he had no intention of leaving his wife’s side until their baby was born, Killian offered to take his place in the next convoy. He was not going to be the one in charge, naturally, but with his training and skills from the Home Force, he could see himself being useful. James reckoned that if Killian wanted, and his husbands agreed, he could start doing convoys every year. It wasn’t that common for fertiles to work away from home, but Killian would hardly be the first one, who had taken a liking to it. Killian was looking forward to being able to start bringing money to the house, and no longer being a dead weight, that the twins had to carry.  
He set off with another convoy a month later, delivering the payment to a remote subtropical Southern shire, where people had more sapphires that they knew what to do with, but were desperate for wheat, salt, wool, medicines, sulphur and burning oil, not to mention the trinkets from the Capital, and even some furniture that the richest ones had ordered. Two of Killian’s companions were bringing gold bangles in their sacks, hoping to find wives in the cluster of villages, to which they were travelling to. They were fifty people and thirty carts in total, and they had to hurry, or the rain would start before they made it back.  
Killian came back two months later, exhausted, but rich and happy, having seen the wonders that he had only learned at school about before. A new world had opened up to him, and it was full of opportunities. He could not wait for the next year – the Harza people did at least three large Capital convoys and fifty smaller ones each year between them. They spread in all directions, reaching as far as the Southern ocean and some exotic-sounding destinations. Killian was buzzing with excitement at the prospect of visiting as many of them as he could, in the years to come.

 

Jay was already showing when Killian came back, but hardly got much bigger over the next months. He was as active as ever, and except for a sore back and swollen ankles, he was handling the pregnancy ridiculously well. His face was a bit rounder and his skin not as clear as before, but his sparkling eyes were more than making up for that.  
Killian watched him, amazed by all the changes happening in front of his eyes. He no longer minded spending his days sitting with Jay on the kitchen floor, polishing the panels for a new cot for the baby, instead of nipping off to the pub, as they had in the past.  
One day, Jay let him put his hand on his swollen belly, and Killian could feel the baby moving inside. He started talking to him and the little boy kicked.  
It was on the evening when the first snow started to fall, that flustered-looking Vincent knocked on their door. Killian’s husbands had their bags packed and ready for weeks, and all three of them were saddling their horses within minutes.  
‘Give him something!’ screamed James, as soon as they walked through the door.  
Jay was in so much pain, that his whole body was shaking. He was holding onto Caleb’s hand desperately, covered in sweat and with his teeth chattering.  
‘It’s normal’ Rhyl and Radyr kept saying, but they burned something on a small silver plate, and made Jay breathe in the fumes. They sent Jay’s servants upstairs, saying that there were too many people in the room.  
Jay’s body relaxed a bit after several minutes, but he needed to breathe in the fumes five more times, before he was able to speak.  
‘Where is my hot water bottle, James?’ were the first words that left his mouth.  
James looked around in panic, and rushed to put a kettle on.  
‘Why do you have to be so bloody useless, James?’ Jay shouted after him.  
Killian was stunned. Jay had never, ever said a bad word to anyone before, let alone his beloved husband. Being in labour had to be something horrible.  
‘Do something, do something!’ he kept urging his husbands every time Jay screamed in pain again.  
James was even worse than him, openly accusing Killian’s husbands of not doing their jobs and letting Jay suffer so much on purpose, and at some point Rhyl had to lock him in a room next door for some time, threatening to smash his face in if he didn’t calm down.  
‘Does he know that I’m the one giving birth, not him?’ snapped Jay, and told them to keep James there forever.  
James came back, white as a sheet and with his breath reeking of whisky, and it was just in time for him to kneel on the floor next to Jay, while his wife wrapped his arms around his neck.  
‘I am that close to strangling you’ hissed Jay through gritted teeth.  
James stayed as he was, and he didn’t even wince when Jay scrunched his face in another painful contraction, and pulled on James’s hair so strongly that he ripped a fistful of it at the roots, or when he dug his nails so deeply into the skin of James’s neck, that it drew blood.  
‘Not long now’ said Radyr, touching Jay between the legs.  
‘It’s not a show!’ Jay lashed out at them, and Killian and Rhyl turned their eyes away.  
When Killian looked again, Jay was leaning against Radyr’s chest, and his and James’s heads were lowered over a small, red and covered in goo, wriggling bundle of limbs in Jay’s arms, still connected to its mother by a purple cord. The bundle started to scream, and James’s hands moved to unbutton his wife’s shirt.  
‘Hello, little Robin’ said Jay softly, when he was already in bed, in his husband’s arms and with a baby latched on to his swollen nipple.  
They were a picture of perfection.  
‘Do you want a baby?’ asked Rhyl, when they were already riding slowly back home, the faint light of dawn uncovering the beauty of the country road and the forest, transformed by the first snow that year; pristine and untouched and white as far as eyes could see.  
‘Yeah...’ answered Killian dreamily, Jay’s face still clear in his mind.  
They made him pregnant that same day, as if they knew that he was going to change his mind.

 

Killian’s pregnancy was nothing like Jay’s. He hated all the changes happening to him, and when his hips widened, his chest hair started to fall out and his nipples rounded, he was looking down at his body in disgust. He was sick all the time and was always feeling dizzy, and when he could walk at all, he had to be on two crutches again, as his legs were getting weaker every day.  
His husbands would wrap him in a cotton wool if they could, and Killian was beginning to feel like a prisoner. They would not let him ride to town by himself anymore, they would not allow him to exercise his legs for more than half an hour at a time, and they watched closely what he ate, while locking up all the liquors.  
They would no longer risk fucking him, and the best that Killian could hope for was a quick handjob, and that also soon stopped being an option, as after the fourth month of his pregnancy he could no longer get a hard-on.  
When spring came and the first convoy left the town, Killian followed it sadly with his eyes, his belly now so big, that he would struggle to get up from the chair by himself.  
When his husbands told him that he was carrying twins, Killian locked himself in the office downstairs for a long time, hating his life.  
The only thing that kept Killian going was how happy Jay was – his baby boy was perfect, and with his mother’s green eyes and father’s cleft chin, he was the cutest thing Killian had ever seen. Jay was more beautiful than ever, and he could not wait for Killian’s babies to come, he would say, little Robin glued to his chest and Hugo playing happily at his feet. Jay was a world champion in motherhood, and he was already talking about having more babies.  
Normally, that would take some time, as fertiles’ periods disappeared for years after childbirth, but with Killian’s husbands’ potions, anything was possible. Killian had learned it the hard way, he thought, staring at something moving underneath the stretched skin of his belly and shivering with revulsion.  
Killian’s dad was getting married and Killian was not even going to see it happen, as there was no way that his husbands would allow him to travel in his current state. Killian wasn’t due for another two months, but he was already counting days, and he had no idea how he was going to survive the rest of his pregnancy.  
Rhyl and Radyr seemed excited, but they were also very concerned about him. When Killian asked if dad and his new wife could not only visit, but stay for the whole winter, they agreed immediately, and that was saying something. They hated the idea of two strangers wandering around their house for months, Killian knew that they did.  
On one of those days when Killian was feeling particularly sorry for himself, and his husbands were doing everything that they could think of to cheer him up, Killian’s contractions suddenly started. His husbands didn’t even have time to get Killian out of the pool, where they had taken him to help ease the pain in his back, because everything was progressing so quickly. The long, painful labour that Killian had been preparing himself for never came, but what happened instead, was much worse. The babies were born too early, and his husbands only just managed to get the two tiny boys to breathe.  
Killian blamed himself for everything – he had not wanted them, and now they were going to die. His husbands looked ten years older than they were, running fervently between Killian, sobbing hysterically in his bed and the babies, that they were struggling to keep alive. It was almost summer, but the fire was kept going all day and night in the bedroom, so that the two purple-red creatures would be warm. Killian himself was boiling, not that anyone cared.  
It was very uncomfortable when his husbands were pressing on his breasts to squeeze the milk out, as the creatures were too weak to suck it themselves. His husbands had to keep doing it all the time, and Killian was shattered by the lack of sleep. To make matters worse, as tiny as the creatures were, they had ripped Killian to shreds during birth, and Rhyl had to put some stitches inside him. His crotch was so sore that he could hardly even sit, and Killian hated the creatures that ruined his life, hated his husbands for doing it to him, and hated himself for being such a failure.  
Jay kept coming, trying to talk to him and asking if there was anything that he could do to help, but Killian could hardly even understand the words that Jay was saying. Everything around Killian was dark and so very frightening, and he never felt more alone.  
Six weeks later, Killian now knew that the creatures were going to survive, and their loud crying filled the house day and night. Killian disliked the noise even more than he had the weak, little squeaky sounds that they had been making after birth. His husbands would hold them to Killian’s chest for hours, but they could still not learn how to latch on properly, and Killian’s nipples were sore and bleeding from trying to pull them out enough for the creatures to grab.  
‘I want my dad’ Killian kept wailing, turning with his back to whichever one of his husbands was approaching him with the two little monsters in his arms. ‘I don’t want them; you wanted them, so now feed them yourselves!’  
Eventually, his husbands packed their bags, loaded Killian and the creatures onto his old flour cart and transported them carefully to Jay’s house, while they themselves were going to get Killian what he wanted – bring his dad to him, two months before he was due to arrive. As far as Killian was concerned, they were abandoning him.

 

‘Killian, shut up! I told them to do that!’ Jay interrupted Killian’s long rant about his husbands. ‘This is what you need – men only get in the way all the time’ he said with expertise.  
Killian was speechless, unable to decide whether Jay was trying to help, or to kill him.  
James wasn’t home, away with a convoy, and Killian’s creatures were being looked after by Jay’s servants. They fed them some goat’s milk – something that his husbands would never allow – and two little gobs shut up at last. Killian was tired and he wanted to cry.  
Killian was supposed to be sleeping with the creatures in one of Jay’s many guestrooms, but as soon as the pair of servants turned their eyes away, Jay had all of Killian’s things in his own room.  
All four of the children in the house were sleeping in the nursery by Jay’s bedroom, and Killian had just finished crying in Jay’s bed. He only had five minutes of peace, before one of the creatures woke up and started to wail, waking up another.  
Jay slipped out of bed and brought them, one by one, to Killian. Hugo, by now well used to the sound of a baby crying, slept right through it, but Jay’s perfect son was hungry too, and searching with his little hands across his mother’s chest.  
Killian watched as Jay, sitting on bed next to him, unbuttoned his nightshirt and put his baby to his breast. Little Robin knew exactly what to do, sucking strongly on his mother’s nipple and making sweet, content noises.  
Killian’s own creature spat and started to choke on the milk, while the other one couldn’t wait for its turn any longer and started to scream even louder.  
Jay took Killian’s creature from his arms and patted it on its back gently, and it was no longer purple on the face. Jay’s own baby was still feeding himself in the meantime, somehow completely undisturbed about the commotion happening over his head.  
Jay put the creature back to Killian’s chest, but before letting it attach itself back to Killian, Jay put his little finger into its mouth, while grabbing Killian’s nipple firmly between the fingers of his other hand, and then putting the creature to it at a weird angle. Somehow, the creature seemed to grasp it at last and Killian could feel it doing a decent job at getting the milk out. Jay then secured the creature in place with a large pillow, before putting his own, now less hungry and more sleepy, baby on the bed by himself. Little Robin just sat there happily, looking at Killian with his green eyes and smiling, as if trying to say that mommy was coming back in a minute and there was nothing to worry about. Jay walked around the bed to get to Killian’s other side, picked up the other, now hysterically screaming creature, did exactly the same trick with his little finger and Killian’s other nipple and found another large pillow somewhere. He then returned to bed himself, picking up little Robin and putting him to his other breast, which the baby latched on to immediately.  
Killian just watched, dumbfounded. Him and Jay looked at each other, and for the first time in months, Killian smiled.  
They were in bed together, half-naked and with their tits out, and Jay had just fondled Killian’s nipples. If James could see them now, he would be fuming, and so would Killian’s husbands.  
Killian knew that Jay was thinking the same and they both giggled madly, making the babies on their chests shake with their laughter.  
Whenever Killian’s creatures started to struggle again, Jay would show Killian what to do. Jay’s baby was now long asleep in his arms, and even Killian’s hungry monsters seemed to be getting there. Soon enough, they were quiet and in the nursery again, because Jay had somehow managed to change their diapers and get them both to sleep within fifteen minutes.  
‘This is all your fault, for making motherhood look like a walk in a park...’ moaned Killian miserably, when Jay came back.  
‘Robin is basically my third one, Killian’ answered Jay, but listened when Killian said that he couldn’t do it, that he didn’t even like his babies, that he had always known that he was not a wife material...  
‘My husbands are never going to want to fuck me again... My cunt is the size of a bucket and my dick is hardly even there anymore... I bloody hate it, Jay...’  
Jay laughed and hugged him.  
‘I don’t want your bloody cuddles! You always do it and then I end up doing what you want me to do!’  
Jay wouldn’t let go of him, and Killian eventually gave in. It’d been ages since anyone touched him, without wanting to milk him next.  
‘It will all be fine, you will see. And... love life actually gets better after a baby, I promise’ said Jay, blushing crimson.

 

By the time Killian’s husbands were due to return, Killian was no longer calling his babies creatures.  
‘What are you going to call them, then?’ asked Jay one day.  
‘How about Frog and Rat, to go with your son’s name?’ suggested Killian, looking at two little faces that no one in their right mind would consider pretty.  
They weren’t that bad, though, thought Killian. They started doing that thing recently, when they would try to put their little arms around each other, when Killian placed them in a cot together, and it was rather adorable. Unlike their fathers, they were not identical, and Jay though that one looked more like Killian, while the other more like his husbands. They both loved baths and Killian wondered whether it was because they had been born into the water. They slept a bit better and they could now feed well, and Killian had learned how to burp them and change their diapers. Caleb and Vincent thought that they were cute, and confused Hugo was convinced that he had three brothers now.  
‘Think of the two most ridiculous, upper-class names...’ Killian challenged Jay.  
They settled for Reginald and Rupert, but only for a joke. Killian knew that his husbands would have better ideas for their babies’ names, but for now, he fondly called them frogs.

 

When two hairy-faced, wild men finally returned home, Killian did not miss the fact that they went straight for him, rather than paying any attention to the frogs, held safely in Vincent’s and Caleb’s arms.  
‘I’m sorry, I was an idiot. I like them now, you know’ said Killian, crushed in his husbands’ almighty hugs.  
‘We care you more than babies’ said his husbands in Main, and somehow that was exactly what Killian needed to hear.


End file.
